


How Harry Became Merlin

by LadyAuroraKnight



Series: Harry Potter: The Legends Reborn [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Crossover, Gen, Harry Potter Crossover - Freeform, Merlin AU, Merlin Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAuroraKnight/pseuds/LadyAuroraKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an old, powerful magic in the air at Hogwarts this year, and Harry is hypersensitive to it. The problem is he can't figure out why. When the Charms award starts showing him visions and a strangely familiar voice starts speaking to him telepathically, Harry is determined to get to the bottom of it. An old magic book is revealed, and Harry finds himself pulled further down the rabbit hole than he'd ever imagined, causing his understanding of himself and his magic to be shattered forever.</p><p>Slightly AU for Harry Potter: GOF. AU for Season 5 of Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dragon and the Chalice

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone. This is my very first AO3 story, so if I have tagged anything wrong, please do let me know and I will change it. 
> 
> This story was originally a prequel to my story 'More Like Two Different Coins', but I've changed it to be the original story (with a sequel).
> 
> I don't have a beta, mainly because it delays the process of me getting out a chapter, but be assured that I do thoroughly check my story for spelling and grammatical errors, run-on sentences, awkward sentences, repetitiveness, coherency, consistency, OOC behaviour, etc., and I pay a lot of attention to details. If you notice anything I haven't picked up, I would be grateful if you would mention it to me so I can sort it as soon as possible.
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the story. Also, please leave comments, as I do love them, even if they are suggestions or ways to improve.

**Chapter 1: The Dragon and the Chalice**

* * *

 

For most of the wizards and witches at Hogwarts, it had been a normal day:

Snape took fifty points from Gryffindor.

McGonagall gave it back.

Myrtle annoyed anyone who entered the girls' toilets.

Draco called Hermione a mudblood.  
  
Hermione nearly hexed him into oblivion.

But for Harry, it had been a day of unease. The school always flowed with a natural magic that was both exciting and protective, but today Harry felt something different. There was an extra layer of magic, not simply enchantments, but something pure and powerful, old and patient, and he was sure it was _watching_ him.

Harry sighed. He had spent the day looking over his shoulder, distracted, but he knew he wasn't going to get any more answers by wandering the halls. It was dinner time, and he made his way toward the Great Hall, sitting down next to Hermione and Ron with a frown.

"Harry, where have you been?" Hermione wondered.

"Just…around," He muttered.

"Cheer up, Harry. Food's here!" Ron said with a grin.

Hermione gave him an incredulous look, less worried about the food than about Harry.

"What happened?" She asked softly.

Harry frowned. "It's nothing, really. I just...does the school feel _weird_ to you today?"

"Weird, how?" Hermione asked with a smile.

"I don't know. I guess, it's like there's this… _something_ just sitting in the air, waiting."

"Something like _magic_?" Ron teased.

Hermione glared at Ron, who shrunk back a little in his seat, before turning toward Harry.

"Something _other_ than what's normally there, Ron," Harry explained dryly.

"Could it be dark magic?" Hermione wondered.

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. It's powerful, but it feels different from the magic Tom Riddle and Quirrell used."

They sat back a moment to let that sink in. Hermione was the first to break the silence.

"You said it's waiting. What do you think it's waiting for?"

"I don't know, exactly, but, well, this is going to sound a bit silly…"

Hermione glanced at him expectantly. "Go on then."

Harry blushed. "It feels like it's waiting for me."

There was a moment of silence as Hermione processed that. It wasn't unbelieveable that a strange magic could be hovering in wait to attack Harry, especially given his record for the past three years. Being Harry Potter seemed to be a dangerous thing.

"I don't know what to say," Hermione admitted. "Why do you think it's waiting for you?"

"It seems like it's been following me all day. I can't explain it, but I just know."

A worried look came over his friends' faces.

"I wonder if it has anything to do with those visions you've been having," Hermione thought aloud.

Harry winced as he remembered his dream of the old shack and the three dark wizards from the summer. "I don't think so," he admitted.

"I don't know, Harry, but I think you're right. The school _has_ felt different today." She agreed.

Ron sighed. "I think you're both barking mad," He said with finality, and began to dig into his dinner.

* * *

Slightly less than an hour later, dinner finished and Harry, Hermione and Ron decided to wander back to the common room and play some wizard's chess. They turned down the corridor with the trophy case the same way they did every night, but this time as they passed it, Harry froze.

"Harry?" Ron asked, worried.

Harry frowned. Something in the trophy case was humming, almost _singing_.

"It's…nothing," he muttered, trying to brush off the strange pull the magic was having on him.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe you," she said, folding her arms to emphasize the point.

Harry rolled his eyes, knowing he wasn't going to get anything past Hermione.

"I just want to check something," he admitted. "You don't have to wait for me. I'll only be a minute."

"I don't know if that's a good idea." Hermione began.

Harry stopped her before she could launch into a lengthy scolding.

"It's _fine_ , Hermione. I'm not in danger. I'll be fine."

There was a frustrated sigh. "If you're sure," she huffed.

"I am."

Once Harry made up his mind about something, both Ron and Hermione knew there was no convincing him otherwise. Harry's stern gaze rested on them, waiting, and Hermione sighed, motioning reluctantly for Ron to leave with her. They walked a few steps hesitantly before glancing back, but Harry shook his head, so they continued on toward the common room, leaving Harry to his own devices.

When they were out of sight, Harry walked cautiously toward the cabinet. He placed his ear against the glass and noticed the sound coming from the far right. In that direction sat a beautiful golden chalice, its label proclaiming it to be a Charms award, and Harry wondered how he'd never noticed it before. He moved closer to the humming object and silently observed it with confusion and curiosity.

"What do you want from me?" He asked.

There was a sudden vision, a sharp flash of a cup, of fire, and of a sorceress in a red dress. Harry stumbled backwards.

"What was _that_?"

He moved forward again, but was hit with another maelstrom of images, sounds and feelings.

Odd words: a spell?

A man dead against an altar.

Sadness. _Anger._

Clouds, lightning, _power_!

Harry blinked to find himself across the corridor, his back to the wall and his heart racing. These visions weren't like the dreams he'd had during the summer; he wasn't trapped, nor did he feel fear. He could feel everything the observer had, but who was the observer and why was Harry seeing through his eyes? What connection did this observer have to the old magic hovering in the air? Harry shook his head nervously.

 _Harry,_ a voice whispered.

The boy wizard turned with alarm, seeing no one in the hallway.

"Ron?" he asked, unsure. "I said I'd be there in a few minutes."

 _Harry_ , it repeated.

This was not like Voldemort's whispering, hissing voice.

"Ron, come _on_. It's not funny," Harry protested.

Harry jumped as he heard the same voice suddenly send another message.

 _How small you are for such a great destiny_.

He flinched. That phrase hit a nerve. Harry turned around full circle, gathering some strange looks from a couple of Hufflepuff wizards, but found nothing and sighed.

"This is going to drive me mad," He muttered and made his way to the Gryffindor common room.

* * *

Two days later, despite spending every free hour investigating, Harry still hadn't gotten any further with finding out where the magic or the voice was coming from. He'd initially wondered whether the culprit was another basilisk but had quickly filed away that thought as soon as it emerged. After all, the voice hadn't been whispering from within the walls, it had been inside his head. 

When he'd come to a complete standstill on finding answers, he'd considered telling Ron and Hermione. Harry couldn't explain it, but the idea made him unusually uneasy. Perhaps it was fact that this was all eerily familiar, or that this scared him more than he could put into words, because if he was being honest, Harry couldn't shake the foreboding feeling that when he figured this out, his world was going to change…or _crumble._

"Harry, you've been distracted for days now, ever since you stopped to look at that award." Hermione began. "I knew we shouldn't have left you. What _happened_ in that corridor anyway?"

"Not much." He replied, shifting his stance nervously. "Like I told you, Hermione, I just had a vision. Then it stopped. It was nothing."

"It's _hardly_ nothing!" She exclaimed. "This could be dangerous."

Hermione's voice softened. "I don't understand why you won't just tell us. Ron and I want to help."

Harry sighed. He had no answer for that.

_Harry…_

Harry whipped around to face the common room door, his heart beginning to race with both excitement and nervousness. The voice was back!

"Harry?" Hermione asked, "What is it?"

 _Harry,_ the voice called.

He'd checked everywhere.

Hermione folded her arms at the lack of responsiveness. "Harry Potter, you answer me right now or…"

Harry continued to look ahead with intense concentration.

_Trolls guard my door. We must speak urgently, Harry Potter._

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed.

He shook out of his trance, realizing Hermione had been trying to get his attention.

"Sorry, Hermione, but I have to go."

Hermione sighed angrily as Harry walked hurriedly past her and out of the common room altogether. Harry couldn't muster up concern. He was _so close_ to figuring out the puzzle, except he was in the hallway now with no idea where to go.

_Hmm_

The voice had sounded _closer_ this time. Was it because he was on a higher floor?

 _Trolls guard my door_. _Trolls._ Where had he seen trolls before? Surely the person or thing that was calling him couldn't be guarded by a _real_ troll. The professors wouldn't have placed one there as a guard – too dangerous, and if one had found its way inside again, they would've made quick work of it and drove it off the grounds. Not only that, but if his theory was correct, how would a troll even get into one of the upper corridors?

Harry frowned. Then _what did it mean_? He was thinking in circles.

"Trolls," He said. " _Where_ have I…"

Harry paused. During third year, in a secret excursion to the seventh floor with Ron to find and prank Filch, they'd been passing through the corridor and Ron had said "Look at that! Some stupid git is trying to teach _trolls how to dance_."

In an instant Harry knew where to go. He turned and headed for the seventh floor with haste. Just as he'd thought, the troll tapestry hung in the same place it had been during third year. However, things were not as straightforward as he'd envisioned. The tapestry faced an empty wall, not a door. Harry stared it down with fervor.

_Now what? He said trolls guard the door. What door?_

There was laughter in Harry's head.

 _Think, young wizard. Think_.

The voice was much louder, confirmation that he was, in fact, close to reaching his goal. Harry paced along the corridor, looking for signs of hidden cracks, worn plaster or indentations. After the third time of combing the walls, he was frustrated. Another sound analysis of the bottom of the wall suddenly revealed the appearance of a door. Harry readied his wand and opened it cautiously. A cave beckoned. He entered.

"Merlin."

The voice was corporeal now. Harry glanced back with alarm as the door shut abruptly, but turned to face the cave once more.

"Merlin?" he asked incredulously. "Where?"

Harry turned around a couple of times trying to catch a glimpse of the person the elusive voice was talking about, but as far as Harry could tell, he was alone. Curiosity began to eat away at him.

"What about Merlin?" he asked.

There were a great many chuckles from a darkened figure sitting on a slab of rock.

"What's so _funny_?" He demanded.

"The room of requirement appears to those who have need of it, young wizard. It brings to you the things you require. You desired to find me."

"You were the one calling to me," Harry countered. "You said we needed to speak. Where are you anyway? _Who_ are you?"

When an answer didn't come, Harry muttered, "Oh for Merlin's sake, can't you just answer me?"

The laughter began again and suddenly a great shadow came over him. Harry was stunned as a dragon sat before him, smiling.

"You're a dragon," He said with awe, "and you can talk."

"Remarkable. Your powers of observation have not changed."

There was a stab of annoyance at that, but it was quickly pushed aside by confusion.

"Have we met?" Harry asked. The familiarity had hit him again.

"Why, yes."

"When?" Harry asked. "How?"

The dragon had no intention of answering this question.

"Two days ago, you discovered a cup in the showcase," He began.

"The Charms award?" Harry asked, noting the dragon's avoidance of his question.

The dragon tsked. "The Cup of Life," He corrected.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "The vision I saw - I remember thinking that. Do you know why I'm seeing them?"

There was a smile. "Yes. They are not visions, but memories - _your_ memories, _young warlock_."

"That's wizard," Harry corrected, feeling slightly uneasy, "and I don't understand. How could they be _my_ memories? They seemed centuries old. I wouldn't have been born!"

The dragon shook his head. "It is too early."

"Too early for what?"

The dragon sighed. "But the old religion has decided. I cannot argue with this. It will have to be time."

"Time for _what_?" Harry asked, frustrated with the dragon's cryptic words. "Just give me an answer!"

The dragon could hardly help but chuckle at the boy's impatience.

"Leave this room," He instructed. "The door will disappear. You will need to walk three times past the wall that held it. Think of your question _carefully_. You will find the answers you seek."

The dragon leaned in, his face so close that Harry had to step backward.

"Make sure you are ready. Once you choose this path, there is _no going back_."

The dragon disappeared back into the shadows, leaving Harry to return to the corridor baffled and worried.

* * *

Harry had let the dragon's words sit for over a day. His warnings and cryptic answers had frightened the boy, and rightfully so. Harry wondered if he really wanted to know what the dragon sought to tell him. At the same time, the visions continued to dance inside his head, rousing his curiosity. Harry frowned, annoyed at not being able to make a decision. Not only that, but there were things the dragon said that he didn't - couldn't - believe, like the fact that the visions were _memories._

He'd spent hours pondering that question, and the only conclusion he could reach was that he'd been someone else before being Harry. It was a tough pill to swallow. Harry wasn't even sure he believed in reincarnation, but there was no other explanation, unless of course, the dragon was lying. Dragons were notorious for telling riddles, tricking men. What if they weren't his memories at all, and the dragon was trying to make him vulnerable to Voldemort?

He shook that thought away as soon as it came. That strange familiarity came back, and with it trust. Somehow, he knew he could trust the dragon.

With a sigh he realized he was back to square one.

 _This is it_ , he thought. _Enough is enough._

He needed to know what the memories meant, _who_ they belonged to. He couldn't keep sitting here driving himself mad with speculation.

With determination he headed to the seventh floor corridor to take the dragon's advice. Harry paced several times past the wall where the door had been before, his thoughts racing. He focused on his questions.

_The dragon said I'd done this before. He said he knows me. How? What does the dragon want me to know? Whose memories are these?_

He suddenly froze as an uneasy realization hit him. The dragon's first word when Harry had entered the cave had been _Merlin_. A nervous chill went up his spine as another question entered his head.

_How does this relate to Merlin?_

Harry turned just in time to see the door appear in response to his question, and reluctantly moved to open it. Inside appeared to be nothing more than a storage room for junk. Harry blinked in confusion. How was he meant to get an answer in here?

He shuffled along, looking for something, _anything_ that might give him a clue to answering his question. Nothing looked particularly suspicious or useful.

"Dragons," He muttered. "This would be a lot easier if I knew what I was looking for."

Harry suddenly found himself tripping over a rope strung across some tables. The rope stretched behind a particularly high bookshelf, one which wasn't exceptionally sturdy. The whole thing began to fall on top of the wizard and he ducked next to a tall chest of drawers. The bookshelf came to an abrupt stop at the top of the chest, and Harry sighed with relief, just as a pile of fifty heavy books came toppling over him.

With exasperation he tossed the books off of him, hating the dragon more with each moment, until _it_ caught his eye. It was an odd leather bound book, older than many of the books in the library, and Harry wondered why it was in _here_ of all places. He felt compelled to touch it, to open it, and could feel its influence in his brain like a toxin. All the magic he'd felt in the past few days, he could feel it brimming from _here._

Harry pulled back, knowing that whatever this was, it was dangerous magic, but he could not pull his gaze away from the old tome. Something about it made him think of an old friend, reminded him of simple beginnings. When the first droplet hit the floor, Harry realized he was crying, and wiped away the tears in amazement and fear.

Scared out of his wits Harry made to move, but his limbs refused to cooperate. The source of the powerful magic was so close that he could no longer resist its pull. The only action left was to open the book and get some answers.

Harry reached out to touch the cover as tendrils of gold began to spill out, gently covering his arm and working its way along. But unlike what Harry had expected, the light was warm, calming, a _relief_.

The book opened and shot out a forceful wind, tossing Harry's hair out of his face. The golden tendrils of light spun rapidly, covering more of his body and sinking into his skin. Harry's mind was racing, panicking, but he couldn't bring himself to fight something that felt so right. Then he felt the golden light curving underneath his skin, sinking into his core and encircling the strands of already present magic. It spread out from the strands to fill the void, circling down further, hitting the core of the magic Harry held within: magic he hadn't tapped into, magic he hadn't even _considered_ yet, and it exploded into little pinpricks of fire. Harry blinked and in one moment, his world turned to golden haze before everything faded to black.


	2. The Dangerous Golden Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's found the magic that's been haunting the air, and is awed that he can actually use it. But what happens when his normal magic doesn't work and those annoying memories keep popping up...

"Harry."

His vision was cloudy.

"Harry."

There was a pause. "He's coming around."

An older voice spoke thoughtfully. "He's had quite the ordeal, Minerva."

She sighed before folding her arms. "What could he _possibly_ have been doing?"

"Perhaps," Dumbledore suggested, "he was searching for something."

Harry suddenly sat up and the hospital wing became clear. Dumbledore stood on his right, along with McGonagall.

" _Mis_ ter Potter, what on _Earth_ do you think you were doing in the Room of Hidden Things?" Professor McGonagall began. "It's lucky that we found you. I dread to think what sort of state you'd have been in by morning."

Madam Pomfrey, too, sent Harry a look of disapproval. Harry sighed and turned the blankets over, attempting to get out of bed, but she held him back.

"Not yet I'm afraid. You're not leaving until I'm convinced you are fully healed," she said.

Her wand out, she whispered a spell Harry hadn't heard before. A white stream of magic circled him for a moment and Harry winced as it poked and prodded him and even passed through him in some instances, before re-entering Madam Pomfrey's wand.

"You are a lucky boy," she scolded, "for the amount of trouble you get yourself into."

Harry nodded, and suddenly remembered he had two people waiting for an explanation. He turned to face them.

"It's like you said, Professor," he lied. "I was just looking for something. I couldn't sleep so I headed to the seventh floor corridor and the door just _opened_."

Dumbledore glanced to McGonagall, an unspoken understanding emerging. But something in their eyes made Harry cringe.

"I should really get back to bed," Harry said nervously, standing up.

"Oh no you don't, Potter. _I_ will walk you back to the common room, and you can explain to me exactly what you were looking for so late at night."

Harry sighed and resigned himself to a very long and tedious walk with Professor McGonagall.

* * *

Harry stared worriedly in the mirror as he fixed his robes before class. He'd hardly slept the night before, but felt surprisingly energetic. The question was, "Why?"

Because he knew it had something to do with the book and the golden light, he just didn't know _what_. And furthermore, the dragon had tricked him. Harry had found no answers to his questions about the memories. Instead he was left with more questions. The dragon had known he would find the book, and Harry could only assume that it had intended for this to happen. Harry frowned. There was nothing he could do about that now. He had to get to Charms.

He headed out of the common room and toward his lesson. The strange magic that had hung in the area previously seemed to be near absent. Harry wondered what connection it had with the book, but filed that thought away for later as he reached class. Harry walked in, seating himself next to Hermione and Ron, but his mind wandered, thinking back to the night before.

"Right. Let's get started!" Professor Flitwick began.

Harry hardly heard him. He looked at his Charms book but instead saw the mysterious book from the last night, glowing golden. Harry swallowed nervously. Come to think of hit, He'd never even seen what was _in_ the book. What _was_ the gold aura that had settled over him?

Harry glanced down at his hands. Whatever the gold had been, he could feel it brimming beneath the surface of his fingertips. He turned his hands over, almost expecting sparks, but none came. He sighed.

"Your turn, Harry," Flitwick suddenly said

Harry perked up. "Huh? What? What are we doing?"

"Nice of you to join us," Flitwick greeted. "Would you like to demonstrate the spell we've just learned?"

"Sorry, um, I was a bit distracted, sir. I didn't hear the spell." He admitted.

The class erupted into laughter.

"Keep this up _Potter_ , and we'll have the cup _won_ by next week," Malfoy taunted.

This angered Harry more than usual. He could feel the new golden energy reacting.

"Just you watch, _Malfoy,_ " he spat.

Harry looked to Hermione. "Protego," she whispered with a sigh.

Harry made to grab his wand, fully intending to show Malfoy up…and stopped. The class breathed in anticipation of his ridicule. There was a moment of clarity, as though Harry could truly _feel_ the movement of magic inside of him. He wasn't sure where the words came from, but they escaped him as if he'd known them all his life.

" _Ascilde,_ " he said, his wand still sitting in its place.

There was a tugging behind his eyes and the magic burst out, creating a shining blue dome that disappeared over Harry without a sound. Flitwick attempted to send a wisp of light through the barrier with his wand but it dissipated as soon as it reached a two foot radius of the boy. Amazed, he attempted various other charms and elemental spells. Nothing even came close to breaking through.

"Remarkable!" Flitwick said in awe. "An advanced protection charm. I have to test it further! What spell did you use, Harry? I _must_ know."

His face quickly turned to worry as Harry pitched forward onto the desk.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, attempting to wake him up. "Harry!"

He stirred and opened his eyes halfway. "Tired," he whispered.

Flitwick wandered over with worry while Hermione glanced at Harry with shock. She conjured water in a nearby cup and Harry glanced into his reflection.  
  
" _Your eyes,_ " she whispered.

They were burning bright gold.

Flitwick looked worried. "It appears you've somehow tapped into your magic without a wand, Harry. You'll need to rest."

He glanced to Hermione and Ron. "Both of you, take him to the hospital wing, and make _sure_ he rests."

Ron and Hermione nodded, gathering their things, and helped Harry out of the classroom while Malfoy stared daggers in their direction.

* * *

The gold in Harry's eyes had died out by the time he'd reached the hospital wing, and neither he, nor Ron or Hermione seemed to want to explain it to Madame Pomfrey. As a result he'd only been there for ten minutes before he was scolded for using wandless magic and told to go back to the common room and stay in bed for the remainder of the day.

"I'm _fine_ , guys. I don't need to you hold me up."

Hermione stopped. "Harry, you just did _advanced_ magic, and _without_ a wand! You're lucky you can _stand_ right now."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Mione's right, Harry. And how the bloody hell did you do that anyway? Where did you find that _spell_?"

"It just came to me. I don't really know how it happened."

Neither Ron nor Hermione was happy with that answer, but as Harry refused to speak about it anymore, they let it be. They stayed shortly to make sure Harry wouldn't try to leave and he finally gave in to their insistence that he stay in bed.

Harry sighed, grabbing his Charms book, and turning to the page for today's lesson, fully intending to study. However, it was a futile attempt, and he tossed the book down after reading the same line seven times. He couldn't think about school after what had happened during Charms. He'd used a new spell, had golden eyes – like the color of the magic that had weaved into his being. Because that's what it was – _magic_. He knew that now, and he knew only one way to find the answers – he had to get that book. The only way he could do it was to go back to that room.

It seemed like forever before nightfall, and it was an anxious Harry that exited the common room and headed for the seventh floor. He paced past the wall once, twice, three times, but no door appeared.

"I just want to know _what's_ happening to me," he muttered, as though the room could somehow hear him. Harry sighed and sat against the wall, facing the odd tapestry with the trolls. And then he promptly fell inside the room.

"What?" He said, turning around.

The doorway had miraculously appeared. He jumped to his feet and hurried through the Room of Hidden Things, glancing about to find any distinguishing feature that would tell him where he was before. Then he saw it – the heap of books that had fallen over. Someone had straightened up the shelf but a few of the books still remained. He rifled through them, but none of them held that familiar pull. Harry walked to the bookcase, glancing to the top shelf. There, lined with gold, sat the book. His magic pulsed in response to its call, but there was no ladder, no nearby furniture to climb on.

He held out his wand. " _Accio book_ ," he said. It didn't work. Harry frowned.

" _Accio book,_ " he tried. Nothing. Harry looked with worry at his wand, wondering if the gold magic had somehow canceled his original magic out.

Then it happened again. He felt his tongue curving around another foreign word.

" _Onbregdan,_ " he said, testing it out, and the book came to him so fast he nearly had to duck.

A sudden wave of fatigue drifted over him and he managed to grab the bookcase to prevent him from collapsing. The spell he'd used couldn't have been as powerful as the one in the classroom, or he'd be out for the count, but the grogginess was disorienting. He had to learn how to control it somehow.

It took him nearly half an hour to regain enough of his senses to stand without swaying. Then with the book tucked into his jacket, Harry tossed the cloak over himself and made his way back to the common room.

* * *

"And he used it wandlessly?"

"With a spell I've never heard before, Albus!" Filius exclaimed. "Such a strong shield! Nothing I could conjure would penetrate it!"

Albus tilted his head with worry. "Have you told anyone else?" he wondered.

"No. I came directly to you."

"Good," Albus said. "Leave this with me. Let me know if anything else happens. I will keep an eye on him."

Filius nodded, apparently satisfied with this. "Should we put him in more advanced classes?" he asked.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No. Not yet."

"Very well, Albus. I trust your judgment," he said, leaving the office.

The aged wizard walked toward his wall of portraits, deep in thought. The book Harry had found was Merlin's original spell book. It had been safe in the room for years. No one had believed a powerful spell book would be in a room of discarded things; it was too valuable. Which is exactly why he'd put it there. Now _Harry_ had found it. Moreover, the book had power inside: power that Albus couldn't access. He'd read the book a hundred times but could never touch the brimming energy inside.

His eyes narrowed. It had been rumored that Merlin hid his magic in a book, waiting for the next time when he would be reborn. But the time for Merlin's rebirth had come and gone, and Dumbledore had wondered if the power would ever be claimed. Now, it seemed, the magic had found the person it was waiting for: Harry. Though Albus would never have suspected him, it made all the sense in the world. He was already prophesied to kill Voldemort.

_And he shall have power the dark lord knows not…_

Was Harry the next Merlin? Albus wasn't sure, not yet. All he could do was watch…and wait.

* * *

Harry stared at the book with apprehension for an hour before deciding to hide it in his trunk. He wanted nothing more than to open it and get the answers he sought, but now he feared what those answers might be.

 _Once you choose this path, there is no going back._ The dragon's voice echoed.

The nagging feeling in his gut remained. Somehow he knew these answers would change everything. He glanced at the ceiling.

_I still need to control this magic. And what are the professors going to say when my normal magic doesn't work?_

It was a worry, and there was only one solution: Harry was going to have to _practise_ this new magic, to learn to use it before it made its own appearance again. Then maybe his other magic would come back. He sighed. It looked like he was heading back to the seventh floor corridor… _again_ …at least, after he got some sleep.

It was early the next morning that Harry slid out of bed and dressed. He mapped his day as he showered. This morning he would head to the Room of Requirement and think about practising his new magic. Hopefully the same magic that opened the wall before would open it again. Then he could try to find a way to use this magic without falling unconsciously into a heap on the floor.

He snuck out of the common room with ease and made his way up the stairs, pausing only to check if he was being followed. Then finally, he'd reached the corridor. Three times yielded the results he was expecting and a door appeared. Harry reached for the handle with caution. Would it be a cave? The room with all the junk again?

Given it was the Room of Requirement, he hoped it would have what he needed already. With a small push the door opened inward to reveal a training room of sorts. There were moving pictures of spells being used, old tomes that Harry imagined to be full of spells. Harry headed for the spell books on the left.

He heard the soft crack of the spine as he opened one of the books. He attempted to read the title but it wasn't in any language he'd learned. Harry slowly flipped a few pages ahead. Still, the words were like none he'd ever seen. He sighed, frustrated, before looking at another spell book to the right.

With this one a smile came over his face. The words were unfamiliar but the spell was very clearly indicated next to a picture showing its usage. He saw spell he'd used to conjure a shield, and flipped further curiously.

There was one for light. It seemed simple enough. After all, Lumos was one of the easier spells. He readied his wand before remembering that wands were not used with this magic and reluctantly pocketed it.

He closed his eyes. _The word. What's the word?_   He glanced to the book again. The word was written above the picture. _Leoht_.

 _Leoht._ He repeated in his head.

_How do I say it?_

"Lay-ott," he tried. Nothing. Not even a slight reaction from his magic.

"Lay-oht," he tried. Again, nothing.

Harry frowned, and glanced at the book again.

"Ley-oht," He said again, this time stubbornly, and felt the magic burst to life. It was brimming underneath, trying to create the light, and Harry felt his chest constrict. If the magic burst out in the way it had before, Harry had no doubt he'd faint. Again.

_No. There has to be another way._

A flash of a memory came to him, of holding out a hand. He did it instinctively. The magic surged through him easily now, with little resistance, and a light shone in the palm of his hand. The magic inside him settled and he blinked back the odd tingle in his eyes.

 _Yes!_ He thought.

The light brightened. He only felt a _little_ tired. He quickly snuffed the light and thought of the memory. If the dragon was right, if these were in fact _his_ memories from another time, it would mean that Harry once possessed this golden magic. He glanced in a mirror, and noticed the gold hadn't lingered in his irises. _Progress_! But that was a weak spell as far as Harry figured, and he knew he'd need more practice to conjure a shield without fainting.

Again he wondered where this magic came from. Why _him_? His thoughts wandered back to the book in his trunk, and he felt that feeling of dread. Did he really want to know? This was a good thing. Would finding out where it came from help him or would it frighten him? He frowned. Now wasn't the time to think about this. He needed to practice.

Harry flicked to another spell, one for creating fire. To his surprise, a ring of stones sat in the middle of the room, supplied with kindle – ripe for a fire.

_Okay, hand out._

Check.

He adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath. _"Beier-nay,"_ he tried.

Nothing happened.

"This would be _so much easier_ if I could just read the language properly," he complained.

"Bair-neh," he enunciated, and the fire roared to life so fast that he stumbled backwards into the book stand. He grabbed onto it, causing both it and himself to fall on the floor. When Harry looked up, the fire was burning out of control, and he panicked, grabbing his wand out of his pocket and yelling " _Aguamenti!_ "

It managed to produce a weak spray but the water evaporated nearly as quickly as it had appeared. Harry glared at his wand before shoving it back into his pocket. He'd no sooner glanced at the nearby spell book when his mind exploded with magic and the pages flipped themselves at high speed. As quickly as the flipping began, it stopped on a page with water. Harry pushed the apprehension aside and shouted the words of the spell at the fire.

" _Waeter_!"

A cascade of water dropped onto the fire as if from a giant bucket in the sky and Harry let his head fall back to the floor with relief.

"This magic is going to kill me." He said.

* * *

Not long after Harry's ordeal, he'd picked himself off the floor and headed back to the common room to change. Unfortunately he wasn't early enough to avoid running into Ron and Hermione.

"You smell of smoke," Hermione said. "What have you been doing?"

"Nothing." Harry said. "I was out with Hagrid."

"That's funny," Ron said, "because we went looking for you at Hagrid's and he said he hadn't seen you in days."

Harry frowned. "What does it _matter_ where I've gone?"

"I know what you're doing. You're practicing wordless magic," Hermione said crossly. "Harry, it's _dangerous_. That's why we haven't been taught it yet."

Harry pinched his brow. "It's not _just_ wordless magic, Hermione. It's different. It just _happens_. My magic – wand magic – hasn't been working properly, but I keep hearing phrases of another language that seems to make this new magic work."

"You're flipping mad," Ron said. "Tell him he's mad, Hermione."

But she tilted her head, curious. "New magic?" she wondered aloud. "But where would you get such magic?"

She paused. "Harry, you mentioned a different magic in the air just days ago. Do you think…?"

Harry sighed. "I found a book in the Room of Hidden Things. Something golden just absorbed into me. I woke up with a headache," he explained. "And the magic that was in the air…it's gone."

Hermione frowned. "But how could that magic get into you? It doesn't make sense! And furthermore, that book could have had any number of curses. Harry what if it's dark magic? You can't use it!"

Harry frowned, angry that the conversation was going in circles. "I told you, Hermione, this is _different_ than dark magic! The way I see it, I have two choices. Either I let it happen accidentally, not _knowing_ how much I'll get hurt each time, or I learn to use it properly. What would _you_ rather?"

"I'd rather you spoke to Professors Dumbledore or McGonagall."

"No." he said firmly. "Absolutely not."

"You're being unreasonable."

"They know about this, and they haven't told me anything yet, which means they have something to hide. No. I'll figure this out alone."

Ron grabbed Harry's shoulder, turning him around abruptly.

"Listen to yourself, Harry," he said. "This isn't like you."

"See, _this_ is exactly why I haven't told you anything," Harry shot, and stormed up to his bedroom.

* * *

The day continued with high tension. Ron glared while Hermione sent looks of disapproval whenever they met eyes with Harry. Harry looked down. He _should_ really talk to Dumbledore, but…

He remembered the knowing look Dumbledore gave McGonagall the night he'd awoken in the hospital wing and couldn't help but feel a little betrayed.

 _Why hasn't he told me?_ Harry wondered.

McGonagall had clearly not been entirely privy to Dumbledore's thoughts, as she had questioned Harry to the gills when she'd walked him back to the common room. But Harry wondered if Dumbledore _knew_ about this magic, and the trouble it was causing him.

He shook his head. _Of course not. Don't be stupid._

Hermione's voice sighed in his head. "Then go talk to him."

Harry frowned. _I can't._

Truth was, he was afraid of what Dumbledore would say. The headmaster might insist Harry hand over the book, and Harry had not yet found his answers. As much as Harry respected Dumbledore, the man only gave the answers he felt necessary, preferring not to reveal all things at once. Harry needed blunt honesty that he could only get by reading the book in question.

He glanced forlornly at his DADA book, zoning out from Moody's teaching.

_It's not like I can use my wand magic anyway._

But a part of him remembered the small spurt of water he'd managed from his wand this morning and felt slight hope that not everything had gone bottom up.

"Potter! You and Granger pair up," Moody barked and then turned to the rest of the class. "Practise the elemental spells. You'll need to remember the Protego charm for this, or learn how to dodge."

Hermione glared and held up her wand. "You've been zoned out all class, Harry. Did you hear the elemental spells the professor taught us?"

Harry nodded. "I heard him. I knew them before."

She was genuinely surprised. "I didn't think you or Ron bothered to read ahead. Ready?"

They held out their wands. "1…2…3!"

" _Incendio_!" Hermione cried.

"Aguamenti!" Harry countered, but the spray was a weak one. The fire pushed it back.

"Harry! Watch out!" Hermione called, worried.

Harry panicked, dropping his wand. " _Waeter_!" He called.

The fire dissipated as a water cascaded toward it, soaking Hermione in the process. Hermione blinked, analyzing Harry with caution.

The class turned.

"Where'd you come up with that one, Potter?" Moody asked.

"I…" Harry stuttered. "I don't really know, professor."

"Don't be shy," Moody said with a grin. "Well done, Potter. Well done. You and Granger practice opposites now."

Harry nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. The relief was gone when he looked at Hermione. He picked up his wand and sighed, beginning the countdown.

" _Incendio!_ " he cried.

Nothing. Hermione's stream of water drenched him. He flicked the water off.

"Harry, aren't you even _trying_ to use your wand anymore?"

He glared, and tried again. " _Incendio_!"

The fire roared and Hermione's eyes widened.

" _Protego!"_ She shouted, calling a quick shield. The fire glanced off.

Both glared for what seemed like minutes.

"Pack up your things. It's time to go. And make sure you can do two elemental spells for next lesson." Moody announced.

Harry ran to catch up with Hermione. He turned her around. Her eyes were soft, worried, but they hardened with anger.

"If you don't soon tell someone about this, _I_ _will_."

Harry frowned and grabbed his bag angrily, storming out of the classroom.

* * *

Harry walked into the shared dorm after dark that evening, exhausted from practising even more spells in the Room of Requirement. But he was filled with the subtle satisfaction that comes from accomplishment, and could hardly help the smile on his face.

"You're back late," Ron muttered.

"I was busy," Harry said.

"Doing what?"

Harry paused. "Practising," he said cautiously.

Ron frowned. "You've been bloody different since you got that magic."

"I know. You told me."

"Well it's not like you listened, is it?"

Harry sighed loudly. "Ron, I _really_ don't need this right now."

There was a snort. "It's not just me, you know. Mione's worried sick. No one's even _heard_ of the magic you're using."

"You _told_ people?" Harry asked, his voice rising with ire.

"I didn't have to!" Ron protested. "Anyone in charms would have seen that shield! And what was that in DADA today?"

Harry fought the urge to grit his teeth. "Ron, _please,_ " he whispered. "Just drop it."

"Fine. But you better not turn into a second bloody you-know-who," he muttered, before turning over with finality.

That put Harry in a right mood and he glared at Ron's back for half a minute before realizing that Ron had a point. Harry really didn't know where this magic had come from, except that it happened when he'd touched the book. He still didn't really know exactly what the dragon's agenda was. His mind made up, Harry decided to fetch the book from the trunk, and find the answers once and for all. He rustled around, pulling out the old tome and tossing it onto his bed while he changed into his pajamas. It was with anxiety that he slid into bed with his head under the covers.

Harry held up his wand and tried Lumos, not wanting to aggravate Ron further. Thankfully it worked, and he took a deep breath before gingerly opening the book. The words were in the same language as the ones in the training room. The next page yielded much the same result. And then he saw it:

 _Leoht_ \- shown with a light appearing in the caster's hand.

He was immediately pulled into a sharp memory, of a dark town with shrieking ghosts, and villagers frozen to death. Something came at him quickly and the fear sunk to his gut as his magic refused to work. He moved away with terror. The feeling of the headboard hitting his back pulled him to the present again, but it took him a minute to calm his breathing.

_What in the name of Merlin was that?_

Without a thought, the book turned to another page, almost of its own accord.

 _Onbregdan_ – A man with hand out, calling an object to him.

Many memories flung through his head at this. A man scolded him for using magic so openly. The page flipped.

 _Tospringe_. – A lock was pictured, in the stages of opening.

Opening a cage. A scared girl in shabby clothes: a druid. A pang of familiarity hit him. _That girl_ , he'd freed her. _Wait, what am I thinking? I never freed her._ _I don't even know her_. With a pang of sadness his heart disagreed.

Harry pulled back with fear. _Whose memories are these? Who was I?_

He closed the book with apprehension, wondering whether to open it again. The memories were scaring him, and despite the fact that he'd accepted the new magic, he wasn't sure this would be so easy. He wasn't ready.

 _No going back._ The dragon said in his memories.

Foreign feelings and memories continued to wash over him. Harry blinked, trying to anchor himself to the present. He closed the book, tying the leather binding and placed it back in the trunk gingerly.

As much as he tried, sleep wouldn't come. The book…he could feel it there, calling to him. _There is more to know_ , its magic said.

 _I want to know_. Harry thought, his heart beating rapidly. But he was afraid. He sat staring at the trunk throughout the night, sifting through the foreign thoughts. Before he knew it, morning had come, and he had no choice but to get ready for class.

* * *

**Review?**


	3. The Wizard's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's fear caused him to stop the transfer of memories from the spell book, but when the day's events continue to trigger unwanted memories and feelings, Harry starts to realize just how deep he's in and that once Pandora's Box is opened, there really is no going back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a couple of things:
> 
> I tend to like using italics rather than quotations for thoughts, because they are easier to distinguish from regular conversation. I do keep the same conventions with the comma though. Hopefully it won't be too distracting.
> 
> Italics are also used for memories or thought to thought conversation (you'll get what I mean later)

Harry glanced worriedly at his schedule and sighed with relief. Lessons wouldn't have a lot of magic practical work today, thankfully. His magic had grown overnight, itching under his skin. And not only that, but he'd become more sensitive to the presence of magic in the castle. He glanced at the walls, analyzing them.

 _That wall is broken._ _Wait, where did that thought come from? The wall looks fine._

He closed his eyes. It was like touching the wall and feeling an imperfection in the wood, except Harry could feel the imperfection in the _enchantment_. The boy wizard had never truly realized just how potent the castle's magic was. It was nearly tangible, calling him in all directions. Unfortunately right now the place he needed to be was in the dungeons.

Harry dreaded potions, and rightfully so. It was hell. The combination of dark magic and hidden enchantments kept him on edge for the entirety of the lesson. Snape had singled him out and took twenty points from Gryffindor when Harry was too distracted to answer the question. Then Harry had a flashback of an older man in a blue robe, standing in his lab making medicines for the sick. He'd barely recovered from that memory when the leech tank in the background triggered another. A stab of annoyance washed over him as a memory of cleaning a leech tank came to mind. He shrugged it off angrily. Snape began to dismiss the class and Harry put his books away in record time, anxious to get out of the classroom before Ron or Hermione could talk to him.

 _I don't get it,_ he thought. _I closed the book; I didn't go any further. Why won't the memories stop?_

 _No turning back_ , the dragon's voice echoed.

Harry frowned as the anxious feeling from the night before lodged itself in his gut like a solid knot. What if he couldn't stop this? What would he do? What _could_ he do?

Now desperately wanting to get out of the dungeons and the memories they triggered, Harry walked quickly to Care of Magical Creatures. He was in a sour mood when he arrived, but that quickly changed when he learned they were studying unicorns.

_Good. I don't see how a unicorn could possibly trigger anything._

He volunteered to approach the animals first. To his surprise, they took to him naturally and easily, impressing Hagrid.

"Yer must be pure of spirit to attract their attention like that, Harry."

Harry sighed, knowing Draco wouldn't be able to resist that opportunity to made a comment. Draco didn't disappoint.

"That just proves it. I knew you were a _girl_ , Potter."

Harry made to glare but a voice interrupted his thoughts: _You are such a girl's petticoat._

He nearly directed his annoyance at Draco before realizing the Slytherin hadn't actually said it.

"Everyone knows that unicorns are used for their blood," Draco continued smugly.

Hagrid frowned.

"Killing a unicorn's one of the most dastardly things yer can do," Hagrid explained. "Dark wizards used ter drink the blood to stay alive but their lives were cursed."

A blonde man with a solemn expression suddenly assaulted Harry's thoughts, causing him to lean against a tree to steady himself. The memory swirled, revealing a dead unicorn, and a challenge from a wizard called the Keeper of the Unicorns. Then he was in a city whose name he couldn't remember, its castle sitting majestically above the houses on a great hill. He watched the wells run dry and the food spoil, and he watched himself lay a pot of rat stew on the table for the blonde man. They gagged on the taste together. It ended with Harry sitting across from the same man on a beach, horrified as he poured the poison from Harry's goblet into his own, drinking it.

"No!" he exclaimed reflexively.

"Harry?" Hagrid asked. "Harry?"

"I'm fine," he lied, pushing himself upright.

"That's enough about dark wizards," Hagrid scolded, glaring sternly at Draco.

Harry stopped him.

"Wait," he said, as though in a trance. "Killing the unicorn brings the curse. Drinking its blood brings the evil in."

Hagrid wasn't sure what to say to that.

"I...read it somewhere." Harry suddenly stuttered, wondering what had come over him.

The half-giant looked at him with a smile. "Well, it's good ter see yer takin' an interest!" he said, and continued the lesson.

Harry spent the rest of his lessons with his head down, cautious of triggering a memory. He managed to avoid one during the afternoon lessons but found himself suddenly assaulted by a new image as he headed up the moving stairs toward the common room at the end of the day. He grabbed the rail just as his eyes glazed over with a transparent golden sheen.

_A castle. Hogwarts? No. Not Hogwarts. Stairs. A griffin statue at the top. People were decorating. He dodged and spun to avoid them._

He awoke on the stairs, his hand still clutching the railing. Harry pulled himself to his feet. There was a crowd of students watching him.

"Harry?" Neville asked. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said sharply, moving past.

Harry moved with haste toward the common room, trying to avoid talking to anyone, looking at any _thing_. When he finally reached his dorm, Harry sighed, tossing his backpack onto the bed and sitting beside it. The dorm room was empty, courtesy of all the Gryffindors going to dinner. Harry was grateful. He needed the quiet to get his thoughts together. He must've layed there for ten minutes, just looking at the top of his bed, trying not to think about anything, but his stomach growled, demanding food. Harry sighed. It looked as though he would have to go to dinner after all. He sat up, pulling off his robes, revealing a sweater and shirt underneath, and stuffing his wand into his pocket. Despite his constant efforts not to look at the trunk, it was there in the corner of his vision, and he ended up staring. Harry slowly moved in front of it, the pull of the magic overwhelming, and felt himself reaching to open the trunk, to get the book. Closer...closer until...

Harry pulled his arm back, snapping himself out of the trance he'd been in.

"No!" he protested. "Leave me alone!"

His breaths were shallow with nervousness and fear. Harry backed away.

"I don't want to know," he whispered, but he knew that was a lie. He was dying to find out what this was. The magic knew it.

"I'm going to dinner," he said, hoping that saying it aloud might make the magic back off. "So just...stop already."

A soft golden glow emitted from inside the trunk and Harry's eyes widened. Now more frightened than before, he turned, bolting out of the dorm and moving as quickly as possible out of the common room. Harry nearly ran toward the Great Hall, glancing back only to see if the golden magic was following him. When he saw that it wasn't, he let out a breath, slowing into a jog and then a brisk walk. He came to the main door of the Great Hall with relief and walked inside. Ron and Hermione analyzed him quietly. He tried not to meet their gazes, moving toward the table. Suddenly, like a kick to the chest, Harry felt another memory coming on, and fell to his knees, clutching his head. This memory was stronger somehow, more painful.

_Another hall, a familiar one. A king stood at the end of the table, next to the blonde man. Harry still couldn't place the man's name. Both were looking at him with shock, then laughter._

" _Perhaps she has put a spell on **you**." The king said._

 _The scenery changed to night time. Harry somehow knew that years had passed. The blonde man knelt in the dark as he watched from the door. A dark skinned woman stood beside him and asked what the man was doing. He joked that the man was thinking about her._  
  
"He has to decide upon a quest," Harry heard himself saying. "This is one of the most important days in a prince's life."

"Harry!" Hermione called out.

He was jerked violently out of the memory and sat up with sudden alertness. McGonagall stood over him, concern in her features.

"Harry?" she asked. "Harry Potter! Can you stand?"

Harry nodded, pulling himself to his feet but nearly falling into McGonagall to steady himself.

"It's nothing, professor. I just haven't eaten all day," he lied shakily, still not having gained his wits about him.

McGonagall gave him a look that said she didn't believe him, but Harry proved that he could stand sturdily and walk to the table without incident, so she couldn't very well send him to bed. Harry sighed. He knew this was far from over. After all, this was McGonagall, and she knew something had happened in the Room of Hidden Things.

"If you are feeling unwell in the morning, Mr. Potter, you will inform me," she said sternly as she passed the Gryffindor table.

Harry nodded.

"Good."

But that was the least of Harry's worries. The last memory was bothering him. _A prince and a quest._

That bothered him more than the rest, because for some reason he just knew it was a giant clue...and he was afraid of what it meant.

* * *

Flip. Flip. Flip.

An exasperated sigh sounded through the library as another book shut.

"Oh, um, Hermione. Hi," Neville said awkwardly.

"Hi Neville," she said softly.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh it's nothing. Just, do you know how Harry's been acting lately?"

"Yeah he's been a bit off? And doing wandless magic?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm trying to figure out what's happened to him, but I can't find _anything_!" she exclaimed, letting her head rest on a book.

Neville frowned, hating to see the girl upset. "Have you tried the restricted section?" he asked.

"I don't have access, Neville. You know that."

He smiled. " _I_ do."

"What?" she asked, standing up.

"Yep! I'm doing a project on the effect of dark magic on mandrakes for Herbology. Professor Sprout gave me a card."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Neville, can you get me a book?"

"I can do better than that," he said happily. "I just finished my research. Here, borrow my card."

"Wait. If Professor Sprout gave you the card then surely it will only work for you," she said.

"Actually she just gave me a day pass, which doesn't need a name. It runs out tonight at curfew."

Hermione wasn't sure what to say. So she hugged him instead. Neville blushed.

* * *

 _Harry_.

Harry ignored the voice.

_Harry._

_Leave me alone._

_I cannot, young warlock._

_Kilgharrah, leave me alone!_

Harry blanched. Where had that name come from?

The voice chuckled in his head. Harry ducked into a deserted corridor to continue the conversation.

_You must continue. This is your destiny._

_My destiny is to be the Boy who Lived,_ Harry thought. _Leave me alone._

A sigh. _You are just as stubborn._

_You said not to do this until I'm ready. Well I'm not._

_I'm afraid it is too late for that now, Harry. You must finish what you have begun. It is foretold that you will remember._

_Remember what? What are all these memories? Who was I? Who was the prince I saw?  
_

_I cannot tell you that. You must remember on your own. By now you'll have discovered that t _he memories will come whether you want them to or not. I_ gnoring the book's call will cause madness.You must continue what you have begun._

Harry glanced to his left, where a portrait of a dozen men eating at a grand table hung on the wall. The blonde prince from his memories sat in the middle. Their eyes met.

"I _know_   you," he said. "Who are you?"

"Oh hello! Haven't seen you here before!" another man replied. He held up a tankard of ale.

"Gwaine," Harry said reflexively. _How did I know that?_

Gwaine looked puzzled. "I never even said my name. That's pretty good. Are you like Merlin then?"

"Gwaine, we're hung in a magic school!" A dark haired man said. "What do _you_ think?"

"Details…"

Harry met the man's eyes, suspicion causing a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach. "Are you…are you Merlin?" he asked nervously.

But the man didn't answer. His eyes were narrowed, analyzing Harry. Harry shivered. Something about the man's gaze was unnerving.

"I have to go," he said, pulling himself away from the painting and heading back to the common room for the night.

* * *

Hermione looked at the list of words on the parchment she had brought.

_Magic in the sixth century_

_Golden eyes_

_Old English_   
  
_Old magic_

The first time she'd heard Harry cast a spell she knew the words were familiar. Before coming to Hogwart's she'd read everything she could about wizards and warlocks and the history of magic – and that included language. So when Harry had started using foreign words, she'd looked it up in one of her many books, and found it to be Old English.

But that had gotten her to a dead end. She'd then traced the language back to the time in which it was spoken – the 5th and 6th centuries, and read everything she could, still finding nothing. But now she had access to the restricted section, which could definitely yield results. There was one book that looked promising – _Magic in Medieval Times_. She pulled it down and checked the contents, flipping to the section about the sixth century and skimming.

_Magic was outlawed in some areas during the early sixth century but eventually came under the rule of a single king who brought peace._

Great, but she wanted to know how it was used.

_There were many kinds of magic folk. Druids were peaceful and used their magic to heal and protect. Nomads by necessity, druids were finally able to settle under the reign of King Arthur._

" _King Arthur_?" Hermione wondered aloud. Though well read, the one thing she'd noticed in all her pre-Hogwarts research was that very little was ever mentioned of King Arthur. Hermione had found it very challenging to find any conclusive literature about the sixth century. She suddenly wondered whether the wizarding world had something to hide.

Hermione read onward.

_Sorcerer or sorceress was the common term coined for any who could use magic, but they were not all the same. Warlocks and witches were born with magic while sorcerers and sorceresses trained and studied to practice the arts. Given their born connection to the magic in the Earth, witches and warlocks could control it with relative ease. Some were even able to use magic instinctively without the old language. One of these warlocks was the famous Merlin._

Hermione bit her lip and glanced around nervously before continuing.

_Some warlocks and witches became high priests or priestesses. With this came a responsibility to preserve the old ways, protect the balance of the world, and act as the vessel of the gods. The last high priestess was Morgan le Fay, and the last high priest, Merlin himself. Though reluctant, he was convinced to take the role by the Catha, priests of old, and went on to serve the old religion well._

She was fascinated. Hermione had never read about Merlin with as much detail as this. She knew now why the book rested in restricted area. But as much as she wanted to sit and read the entire book, she had a mission. Thus far she'd had yet to find out anything about how the magic of the druids and warlocks worked or manifested. She flipped forward to the section referring to the use of magic.

_The magic of the sixth century was stronger than magic today. It presented itself as a golden sweep around the iris when used. Those with the old magic could not use a wand, instead directing the magic with a gesture. The most powerful of warlocks, Merlin, needed only think to cast magic._

Shock hit her like a punch to the gut as her memories of the odd events of the past few days matched themselves to the phrases she'd just read.

... _ **a**_ _**golden sweep around the iris**... _ " _Harry, your eyes are gold!"_

 ** _...could not use a wand..._** " _My magic – wand magic – hasn't been working properly!"_

 _ **...Merlin, needed only think to cast magic.**_ " _It's not just wordless magic, Hermione. It's different. It just happens._ "

_It just happens._

No gestures. No wands.

 _Listen to yourself, Hermione!_ she scolded. _Are you really thinking that Harry is somehow_ _**Merlin**?  _

It was far more plausible that he'd found magic like Merlin's. She sighed and flipped back to the contents page, noticing a chapter that she'd ignored in her hurry: _Prophecies_. She flipped shakily to that section, now afraid of what she'd uncover.

_The society of Merlin was formed shortly after his death, dedicated to keeping the secrets of Merlin and waiting for his return._

"His _return?_ " Hermione exclaimed.

 _No one knows if this society still exists, but many wizards and witches believe that Merlin will return, and that his magic lays waiting to be reclaimed._ _Some believe it to be sealed in an object, but others refute this, saying it returned to the stream of magic in the Earth, or that it lays with Merlin in the realm of the dead._

Hermione slammed the book shut, unable to process anymore.

Harry's voice rang through her head.

" _I found a book in the Room of Hidden Things. Something golden just absorbed into me. I woke up with a headache."_

_Something golden._

_I found a book._

Hermione placed the book back with shaking hands. The connections – they were right there for all to see. But…how?

Her best friend…Merlin? Not possible. No way. But then how would he have found the magic? How would it have reacted to him?

 _There's a magic in the air. I think it's waiting for me._ Harry's words from a few days back echoed in her head.

 _The evidence!_   her brain cried.

Hermione sighed. Initially she'd wondered if Harry had somehow found latent druid magic, but then the descriptions of Merlin's magic and his return had fit the picture more perfectly and completely. One of two possibilities seemed to fit: either Harry was a version of Merlin reincarnated or Merlin was possessing him. She couldn't be sure which. Hermione shook her head with frustration.

_This can't be possible._

But if it were true, she couldn't be the one to tell him. Nor could she tell McGonagall or Dumbledore. Because if they _believed_ in Merlin's return, they might just hand Harry over to the Ministry of Magic. Harry's hesitation to talk suddenly made sense. She wondered how much he knew. Her hand gripped the chair with angry resolve.

_I need to be absolutely certain. I can't say anything until I know for sure._

Hermione had made her choice, and cleared away the table. She shredded the parchment list of words and left, placing the card in Neville's hands as she left.

"Thanks," she said softly.

Neville couldn't help but think she looked a little haunted as she quietly left the library.

* * *

Harry sat in the common room, afraid to return to his dorm. Instead he sat staring at the embers of the dying fire. Ever since he'd returned to the common room the book had been calling to him like a siren calls to a sailor, and he knew it would be another sleepless night if he left it alone. But he couldn't bring himself to open it, not after what he'd seen in the painting. According to the names they'd used - Gwaine, Merlin - that had to be the meeting of the round table. The blonde man was a royalty, he knew that, and at the head of the dinner table, which meant the others were of lower stature. Was the blonde man King Arthur?

 _He can't be. The blonde man in my memories is a prince._ _And anyway, King Arthur was never a prince, he pulled a sword out of a stone, if the legend is true._

Harry paused.  _What if the legend is different?_

The sinking feeling was back in his stomach, and Harry knew he didn't want to think any further, because if he continued in this direction, he'd have to come to a conclusion that he wasn't sure he could handle. He knew that the book would lead him the same way. Harry sighed. On the other hand he really didn't want to go mad, and he didn't want the memories poking their way into his head whenever they felt like it.

_What should I do?_

He glanced toward the staircase with indecision. 

_I can't sit here in fear._ He decided. 

No, at least by using the book he could know where and when the memories would appear. He was loath to admit it, but the dragon was right. He was just going to have to face it head on. Harry reluctantly stood up, walking cautiously to his dorm. He changed into his pajamas and moved toward the trunk, intending to remove the book, but it suddenly appeared on his bed as if listening, and opened to its previous page.

_Okay you bloody book, I'm doing what you want._

Harry took a deep breath in preparation before settling himself under the covers, and pulling the book toward him. He moved his hand to turn the page but it flipped on its own. Harry looked apprehensively at the parchment.

 _Leohtbora_. On a staircase with a torch. _The Dragon_. That _same_ dragon in the Room of Requirement.

 _That wasn't so bad_ , he thought, feeling a little bit calmer. The page flipped again.

 _Bregdan anweald gifeluc_. A man on a horse, a lance being thrown, a griffin being slain. Feeling ecstatic. _It worked!_

It was hard not to revel in the excitement of the memory. Harry took another breath.

 _Forbærnan_. Sending fire toward a wraith, and feeling worried when the wraith didn't burn.

Harry blinked. He could feel the pain in his temples and the burning behind his eyes as the pages flipped and the memories forced their way inside his head. Fear got the better of him, and he attempted to move away but there was a connection now, keeping him from turning back. Pages flipped so fast that Harry couldn't even read the words, but the memories kept coming. He saw the dragon again, this time in a field.

 _Dracan. Nán dyd ǽlc áciere miss: Dragon. No deed will turn aside your loss_.

 _Dragon tongue_. _Dragon lord_. The words were familiar and foreign all at once.

The pain increased, the pressure behind his eyes building. The man he'd seen in the painting – Gwaine, looked at him.

_Why did you help us?_

_Your chances looked between slim and none. I guess I just kind of liked the look of those odds._

A beautiful brunette was with him in a forest.

_I don't understand how anyone would want to hurt their friends._

_No, you just poison them._

The whirlwind of memories continued.

 _You've lost one parent, do you really want to lose another?_   he asked the blonde man holding a sword to his father's neck.

Harry held his head as the pain intensified. He saw smoke form into a horse, saw a woman testifying, felt his heart beat loudly with fear as a witchfinder was summoned. He watched an older man dragged from his chambers to be tortured, an older man who he couldn't bear to see hurt.

Then a man in feathered robes was holding out his hand.

_Join me._

_Better to serve a good man than to rule with an evil one._

Harry heaved in a sharp breath. The pain throbbed in his temples, his eyes felt on fire.

" _I have lost both my parents to magic. It is pure evil. I'll never lose sight of that again,"_ the ghost of a man he barely remembered whispered into his ear. He could feel his whole world crumbling to the ground with those words.

Harry's hands curled tightly around the blankets as the strain of the memories and the emotions started to become more intense.

 _Aithusa._ Happiness as the white dragon hatched.

Suddenly he was spitting out water, his hands chained above his head as he tried to catch his footing and failed. Anger washed over him as the dark haired witch from an earlier memory began speaking in clipped tones. There were still patches in the memory but he remembered his fury at that moment, the bitterness he'd put into his words.

_Couldn't do me a favour, could you? Let Arthur know. He still thinks of me as an underachiever but I'm quite proud of those accomplishments. I can die **happy**!_

There it was: confirmation. It _was_ King Arthur. In these memories, Harry seemed to be a servant - one of King Arthur's servants! But then...

 _Let Arthur know._ Harry thought, his mind spinning. _Arthur._

The memories were coming back with a vengeance. Harry began to panic, the feeling of dread intensifying.

_Kidnapped. He had been kidnapped...Morgana...Morgan le Fay..._

But why? Why would the infamous Morgana care about a simple servant? _A simple servant...with magic. A simple servant who foiled as many of her plans as he could!_

The memories were shouting at him to notice something, but it was too much to make sense of, too much for his brain to process. Then the dam _broke_.

He saw everything: A tyrant king, a blonde prince, a servant queen, a tragic witch, and a warlock hiding behind the pretext of an idiot servant to protect the once and future king.

 _Merlin_.

Merlin was…

Harry saw the book, saw Gaius, saw _everything_ from Merlin's point of view.

"And now we know its purpose," Gaius said. Harry felt the weight of the new spell book in his hands.

"Everything I do is for him and he just thinks I'm an idiot."

"The time of the once and future king is near."

"What are you doing _Merlin_?"

Arthur's voice resounded in his head.

Harry sat up abruptly. He turned toward the door. Arthur's ghost asked, "You've been here all night?"

"I didn't want you to feel that you were alone," he mouthed as his heart weighed with guilt.

"I'm not…I _can't be_ …" he protested aloud.

"You have to _believe_."

Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone.

Images from the coronation flew through his head. _Arthur, King of Camelot._

Then, the day the ban on magic lifted. He stood above the courtyard while people looked up with curiosity and disbelief.

"… _Court Sorcerer_ …"

His fear…happiness… _relief_ …

The words filled in:

"… _High Court Sorcerer of Camelot_. _The first in a long time._ "

His annoyance at the awful sorcerer's garb he'd been made to wear, part of Arthur's revenge for Merlin's years of lies.

Then, the most heartbreaking memory of all: The Battle of Camlann.

Harry cradled his head, knowing what was coming and not wanting to see it. But it blazed through his head more furiously than the others, causing Harry to lose all manner of thought, consumed in the memory.

_You can't go.  
_

_The hell I can't! He betrayed me, Merlin! My own knight!  
_

_Nothing good can come of this, Arthur! The gods, they...  
_

_I don't give a damn about the gods, Merlin, or what they've shown you. I'm going...and while I'd rather have my friend at my side, I'll understand if you decide not to come.  
_

_Not to come._ Merlin had never intended to let Arthur face Mordred alone. But he'd been tricked and captured. He remembered the crystals shining back at him as Freya's hand cupped his face tenderly. _I'm so sorry, Merlin. Please forgive me._

The paralysis crept through him as he watched the battle through the crystals, seeing Arthur look around with disappointment and betrayal that the one man he had counted on for years was not among his army. He watched Arthur's face as Mordred's sword struck fast and sure, and Mordred fell over, dead from his fatal wound. It was the end of Camelot: the end of it all, and it was Merlin's fault.

He'd remembered the counter spell he'd chanted before Freya sealed the cave, and the long years he spent paralyzed, watching Camelot fall while his magic acted slowly against her powerful enchantment. When he'd finally been able to move, it was too late; he was dying. Then he'd seen the Cup of Life left for him, a small kindness, and felt the elation that came with suddenly knowing there was _one_ spell he could do: _one_ spell that might fix everything. The last thing that Harry remembered was casting the spell of reincarnation - and writing his will on a small piece of parchment before the coldness of death overcame him.

The memories faded as abruptly as they had begun, and the magic settled, leaving Harry to feel both empty and complete. His eyes were wet from tears, his breaths heavy. The emotion was still too much.

 _Why did I remember this? Why?_ He wiped at his eyes.

But remember he did. Merlin was…him. He was Merlin. He was _Merlin_ , the most powerful wizard of all time.

Harry's thoughts automatically retaliated. No! He couldn't be Merlin. This was absurd. He didn't _need_ this! Not _now_. He was the Boy Who Lived. He couldn't take on the responsibility of being _Merlin_ as well.

He put a hand to his head. The memories were clear. Royal Court Sorcerer and Advisor to King Arthur. The fondness, the memories, their first meeting. Dollop-head. Prat. Cabbage head. Clotpole. All the insults came back to him.

Harry gripped his duvet tightly, glancing down at his hands with disbelief. When he had decided to look at the book, the worst thing he'd imagined was being a knight to Arthur, or a servant. He hadn't even considered Merlin. But somewhere deep down he'd known. If the knots in his gut weren't enough, the dragon's first corporeal greeting to him had been to call him Merlin. Harry leaned against the headboard, at loss for how to act, what to do. He closed his eyes, trying to reign in the wild emotion. Sudden anxiety flooded through him.

 _Will he accept me_?

The thought was disjointed, as though he hadn't actually thought it. Where had it come from? Was it...had _Merlin_ asked that?

Harry held his head. The dragon said he used to be the person in his memories. What if the dragon was lying? What if he'd said that so Merlin could return? Was Merlin trying to possess him?

There was a sudden feeling of being offended. Harry paused. _Okay, so not possession then._

 _Not possession, no._  
  
The thought popped into his head without warning. 

 _Right, glad that's cleared up,_ Harry thought with sarcasm. _So does this mean I'm talking to Merlin? If I'm you, how can we both be in here?_

Harry didn't receive an answer. Instead his thoughts continued as two competing voices. _Where is Arthur? I can't be Merlin._

Harry felt his head begin to ache.

"Merlin's pants this is annoying," he muttered. That  _voice_ began to chuckle.

If he was Merlin, what was he meant to say _now_?

"Harry?" Ron asked. "What are you on about?"

He almost didn't respond. "I…uh…nothing," he said oddly. "I'm fine, Ron. Just…go to sleep."

Ron glanced over, his eyes widening at his friend's shaken state. " _Bloody hell_ , Harry! You alright?"

"Go back to sleep Ron. _Please,_ " Harry begged, his eyes flashing golden.

Ron looked tired almost immediately after the suggestion and nodded before snuggling under the covers and planking his head down, out for the count. Harry looked at his hands again in disbelief and awe.

_Suggestion is powerful. The magic is still wild. It hasn't adjusted to this body yet._

Merlin was taking notes. It was awful. Harry could see and hear all of Merlin's memories, but suddenly he was the observer again, on the other side of a glass wall.

_We haven't melded. It didn't work. He's rejecting my presence.  
_

There was panic suddenly tacked onto his own, along with strong feelings of worry and disappointment. Harry placed the book in his trunk quickly and got into bed. He tried to breathe slowly. Kilgharrah's words haunted him.

_No turning back.  
_

_Why?_ he thought. _Why is it always me? I'm already the Boy Who Lived; I've already got Voldemort trying to kill me at every turn. I have enough responsibility! Do I really need to be Merlin too? This can't be real._  
  
But Harry knew it was, because he magic he'd been using was very real, and very powerful. The best he could hope for was to sleep and forget about it. Pretend it never happened. Yes, that was the best course of action at the moment.

 _I'm just Harry Potter,_ he repeated. _Just Harry Potter at Hogwarts. Merlin is a great wizard. I don't know him. I'm not him. This is a normal night and I'm going to sleep._

He shuffled underneath the covers, letting his head fall into the comfortable space in his pillow and continuing his new mantra inside his head. Somewhere else inside his head a voice sighed.


	4. Resistance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's learned more than he'd bargained for, and now Merlin is a constant torment in his head. Unable to do anything without Merlin's constant commentary, Harry does his best to avoid his friends and his classmates and take control back.
> 
> When repeated attempts to talk to Harry fall flat, Hermione redoubles her efforts and her research, learning that this whole thing may be bigger than she'd ever imagined.

**Chapter 4: Resistance**

Harry awoke the next morning with an aching head and folded his pillow across it to dull the pain.

"Harry?" Ron asked as he slipped his sweater vest on. "What the bloody hell was that last night?"

And then it all came back to him – the book, the magic, the memories, _Merlin_. Harry's eyes widened and he turned over to face his friend.

"You alright?" Ron asked, worried.

There was a sigh. "Yeah, I'm fine, Ron," he lied.

"You don't sound fine."

Harry wiped his eyes and took in a deep breath before sitting up. "What time is it anyway?"

"Almost time for breakfast. You slept in. Anyway, I'm heading downstairs."

Harry didn't respond, almost grateful to be left alone after what had happened the night before. But once Ron had left, he'd pulled himself out of bed, moving through his normal morning routine on autopilot. It took less time than he would have liked. Harry looked toward the door hesitantly. He didn't really feel like eating, but he knew that if he missed breakfast, McGonagall would notice, and it would cause more problems than it was worth. With a sigh, Harry grabbed his wand and moved down the stairs to the common room. However, there was someone waiting for him.

"Harry," Hermione began, her eyes determined. "We need to talk."

"No, we don't," he said crossly.

"Yes, we _do_. Harry, stop walking away from me."

He couldn't deal with this, not this morning. Why couldn't Hermione have waited until after lunch? He sighed, trying to say something that would at least stop her from worrying.  
  
"Look, I know you're still annoyed about the fact I've been using wandless magic, but you don't have to worry because I won't be using it anymore."

Hermione scrunched up her face in confusion, not expecting that answer.

"I don't understand," she admitted.

"You don't have to," Harry said. "Now please, leave me alone."

A voice in Harry's head sighed with impatience. _Don't be cruel to your friend because you're angry at being me._

Harry's expression turned into a grimace.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm _fine,_ " he snapped and headed for the exit.

Hermione followed him to the hall.

The whole of Gryffindor had noticed when he'd arrived late, McGonagall included. Harry knew that meant a stern talking to was in his near future.  
  
 _Why can't people see that I just want to be left alone!_

 _Being alone isn't the best way to handle this._ Merlin countered. _They're your friends, why don't you talk to them?_

_This is none of your business!_

_Even though it's about me?_   Merlin replied. _It's in both our interests for you to talk to someone._

Harry sat down at the table with silent fury, nearly glaring at his breakfast. No one dared to talk to him, Hermione included. Despite his anger, he decided to make an attempt to eat, but it fell flat as his stomach lurched with just a taste of egg. His fork scraped against the plate as he moved a sausage to one side, debating whether to make another attempt.

 _I'm not Merlin,_ he repeated. _I'm not Merlin._

_Yes you are! You're as much me as I am you!_

Harry stabbed the fork with frustration.

Ron raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"Harry, you haven't eaten anything," Hermione said.

"I'm not hungry," he muttered.

"Harry you haven't eaten much since this whole thing started," Hermione whispered. "We're worried about you. Please talk to us."

 _Give them a chance, Harry._ Merlin repeated.

Harry's fork clattered to his plate angrily.

"I'm _fine,_ " he repeated, more to convince himself.

Hermione made to respond but Ron beat her to it.

"What's wrong with you anyway? You've been a right git all week you know!"

"I don't have to sit and listen to this," Harry said angrily.

_You have been a bit of a prat all week._

"Leave me alone!" Harry said with irritation as he stormed out of the hall. "Just go away."

"Fine!" Ron said, about to continue his tirade, but Hermione stopped him.

"Wait, Ron. I don't think he said that to _us_."

"So, what, you're saying he's gone crackers?"

But Hermione didn't respond to his comment.

"Did something happen last night?" she wondered, concerned.

"Yeah. He was muttering weird things and _crying_."

Hermione looked at him with fear. _He must know._

"What sort of weird things?"

"Something about an Arthur?"

" _Arthur,_ " she nearly choked.

"Yeah. It was bloody mad, Mione. He was out of it, in a trance almost. I've never seen him so upset; it was like someone died."

 _Probably because someone did,_ she thought. A chill went down her spine and she rubbed her arms, glancing to the door where Harry had left moments earlier. If ever there was confirmation of her suspicions, this was it. But should she confront Harry now, despite how volatile he'd proven at breakfast?

_No. Give him time to cool off._

Yes, that was the better idea. Let him cool down a little and then try to approach him. Hopefully then he would be less defensive.

 _Harry,_ she thought. _Why do you have to do everything yourself?_

* * *

" _Potter._ "

_Oh no. Not him, not today._

"Malfoy," he said with a sigh. "What do you want?"

"I heard you'd lost the plot and had to come see for myself."

Harry frowned, not in the mood. "Well, are you satisfied?" he asked, and turned to walk away.

He felt the hex before it ever came close and turned around. Everything was in slow motion. The hex deflected before it ever hit. He felt Merlin's anger taking over, dwarfing his own.

"Nice try," Harry heard himself say. "But it seems your hex needs work."

"How did you do that, _Potter_? It's dark magic, isn't it? My father will hear about this."

"Your father," Harry said with disbelief. "Your father is going to condemn _me_ for doing dark magic?"

Draco flinched, some alarm in his face. It was quickly replaced with anger.

"He'll get you expelled," Draco spat.

"Good luck with that," Harry said calmly. "I'm sure Dumbledore always listens to the sons of Death Eaters."

Harry walked away, leaving Draco frightened and angry.

 _What was that! You just took over my body! You can't do that!_ Harry thought.

_Yes I can. I am in here too. Are you ready to listen to me yet?_

_No._

There was a sigh.

 _I've never seen Draco look that scared before,_ Harry thought idly.

 _Well, it was about time someone put that prat in his place,_ Merlin conceded.

 _You didn't just put him in his place, you threatened him! He won't just let that go!_ Harry argued.

_Oh, what are you worried about? He can't get you expelled; he'll have to admit what you said._

Harry frowned.

 _Sorry, I thought you'd be pleased,_ Merlin apologized.

There was a pause as Harry considered the fact that Merlin was apologizing to him.

_I was trying to get you to see that I'm on your side._

_By taking over my body?_   Harry protested, angry. _Just leave me alone. I've told you already, I don't want to be you!_

 _Suit yourself,_ Merlin said. _But don't think this is over._

Harry was left alone in his thoughts.

* * *

After lessons, Hermione found Harry in the common room staring at the fire.

"Harry?" Hermione asked.

He didn't answer. Camlann might've gone back behind the glass wall in his head but Harry couldn't shake the emotion that had come with it. He watched the fire forlornly, his eyes red and his glasses on his lap.

Hermione frowned and sat next to him.

"Harry?" she tried again.

Harry sighed. "Hermione, please. I just need to be alone."

_Let her help. She's your friend._

_She won't understand. And go away! I don't want to be you!  
_

_You can't take this back Harry. It's done. It's been done since the day you picked up that book._

Harry took out his wand, attempting to douse the fire. It didn't work. He could feel it struggling, its loyalty changing.

"I'm not leaving you, Harry. Just trust me," Hermione said.

"I'm sorry, but I really can't talk about this," Harry said, standing up.

Her eyes betrayed her hurt and he frowned. He hated doing this to her, but what choice did he have? He couldn't very well tell her the truth. She'd call him six kinds of crazy. But he needed to talk to _someone_.

"It's better for you not to know," he said sadly, and left.

Hermione sighed heavily, leaning forward onto her hands. This wasn't getting her anywhere. She could see that Harry was fighting off something - something she surmised was Merlin. But if Harry wouldn't talk to her, how could she help? Hermione frowned. Tomorrow was a new day, and she'd have to try a different approach before Merlin took over completely.

* * *

Somehow Harry's wandering had taken him to Hagrid's door and now he wondered if he should even knock. Who was to say that Hagrid would believe him more than anyone else? Then again, there was a certain appeal to speaking to Hagrid, given the half-giant's laid back nature, and Harry knew that whatever happened, Hagrid wouldn't judge him.  
  
"Hagrid?" Harry asked softly, working up his nerve and knocking twice. No answer.

He frowned and turned to leave. The door suddenly opened inward.

"Harry!" Hagrid exclaimed. "It's late. I didn't expect ter see yeh here tonight."

"Sorry. I shouldn't have…" he began.

"Nonsense. I always have time for yeh, Harry. Come in."

Harry couldn't help but smile as he entered the hut.

"Been a while since yeh came down for a visit."

"Yeah, about that…" Harry said.

"You haven't seemed yerself," Hagrid admitted. "Especially in class. What's going on?"

Harry sighed. "That's sort of why I'm here. I need your help."

Hagrid sat down, curious. "With what?"

" _Please_ , Hagrid, before I say anything, just promise me you won't tell anyone."

"Harry," he said softly, before nodding. "O' course I won't. Now, what's troubling yeh?"

"Hagrid, I found a book in the Room of Requirement, and it had this magic. I've been using it, and it's really powerful, and…"

"Whoa, slow down. You found what kind of book _where_?" Hagrid asked.

"Some sort of old spell book in the Room of Hidden Things."

"Oh dear," Hagrid muttered.

Harry tensed. "Hagrid," he began, his tone defensive.

"No! Wait, Harry. Finish what you were saying."

"Why? So you can keep things from me too?" Harry exclaimed angrily. "I came to you because I thought you were different, Hagrid, but you're just like the rest of them."

 _Rude_. A voice said in his head.

"What?" Harry said aloud.

_I said rude. I thought he was your friend.  
_

Harry gritted his teeth. "Go away," he said firmly.

"Harry?" Hagrid asked. "Who are you talking to?"

_No. I will not. Just because you are insistent on ignoring me, does not mean I will give up.  
_

_Get out of my head._

_No_.

Harry grasped at the wall to steady himself, blinking back the sudden spots in his eyes and fighting off the weakness in his limbs.

 _I knew this would happen,_ Merlin muttered. _Harry you must stop this. Your body was not meant to handle two presences._

_That's not my fault, is it?_

"Harry?" Hagrid asked again. "Harry, we should take you to the hospital wing."

"No!" Harry protested, holding his head. "You can't."

 _Just tell him._  
  
That was probably the only thing Merlin had said that Harry agreed with.

"Hagrid," Harry began, breathing heavily. "If I tell you this, then, you have to tell me what you know."

Hagrid heaved an uncertain breath. "Harry, yeh know I would, but-"

" _Please_ , Hagrid."

Hagrid sighed before giving in and nodding. "Yeh know I will," he admitted with slight embarrassment, "I always do."

Harry propped himself against the table before lowering himself into the seat again. He took another deep breath. "Hagrid," he said, "I think I'm Merlin."

 _Oh, you think, do you?_   Merlin retorted with amusement.  
  
Harry scowled.

"Merlin," Hagrid responded, his tone betraying nothing.

"He just, he won't shut up," Harry explained. "That book, something happened, and now he's just in my head all the time."

Harry looked up, expecting to see disbelief, but instead he saw resignation in Hagrid's face.  
  
"Dumbledore always said someone was gonna come looking fer that book, Harry. I guess he just didn't expect it would be you."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"It's Merlin's. Though if the great wizard's in yer head, I don't doubt yeh already know that."

"You believe me," Harry said.

"Course. Lot 'a wizards figgered that Merlin was gonna come back someday. Just not as another wizard, suppose. No one really dares to mess with reincarnation," he said.

Harry sighed. "Hagrid, I _saw_ King Arthur die. I felt Merlin's emotions."

Merlin was quiet, the twinge of pain evident.

Hagrid frowned. "I'd love ter help yeh, Harry, but I'm afraid I don't know how."

"I just want him gone," Harry said. "Merlin is this amazing wizard who founded everything, and I'm just me, just Harry Potter. I don't want to be him! But he won't let it go. What do I do?"

Hagrid sighed. "I think that's going teh have ter be up teh you."

"So there's nothing I can do?" Harry asked, fearful.

"It's not that. Yeh could go to Dumbledore. He'd believe yeh and he could help more than I can."

"Dumbledore knows what's happening and he's left me to deal with it," Harry said with annoyance. "Don't you think he'd rather Merlin came back?"

Hagrid suddenly looked angry. "Dumbledore wouldn't let Merlin come back at the expense of yer life."

"Why?" Harry asked. "Why am I so much more important than Merlin?"

There was a pause. "I can't tell yeh," Hagrid admitted, "but there's a reason. An' anyway, Albus wouldn't sacrifice yer life to get Merlin back, no matter what. No one really knows Merlin's motives."

 _Why does everyone think I have ulterior motives?_   Merlin suddenly added with a sigh.

For once, Harry didn't flinch. The feeling that came with that statement seemed naturally genuine.

"I don't think that he wants to rule, Hagrid. I think he just wants his life back. But then I'll lose mine."

 _No one said that._ Merlin disagreed.

Harry paused. _What?_

"If he can be reasoned with then why don't yeh just talk ter him?" Hagrid suggested.

Harry suddenly realised that he was so busy focusing on how he didn't want to _be_ Merlin, that he hadn't actually tried to talk to Merlin. Maybe Hagrid was right. Maybe that was the way forward. Harry waited for Merlin to comment, but he didn't. Harry took that as agreement. However, it wasn't lost on Harry that it was Hagrid who talked him through this, _Hagrid_ who knew more than he was telling.

"Hagrid," Harry said softly, thinking.

"Yea?"

" _Why_ do you believe me? Most witches and wizards would just send me to St. Mungo's."

Hagrid simply smiled. "Why would yeh lie?" he said.

Harry knew that wasn't an answer, but he let it go for now. He nodded.

"You should tell your friends," Hagrid said. "They'll believe you too."

"Doubt it," Harry disagreed.

Hagrid's smiled. "Give them a chance, Harry. They've been here for yeh this far."

Harry couldn't debate that. He acknowledged Hagrid's advice, before standing up, and turning to leave.

"Thanks," he said.

"Yer welcome. But don't ferget, if this gets worse, go to Dumbledore."

"Okay," he said noncommitally, and left.

Hagrid watched as Harry walked across the grounds, waiting for him to reach the castle. But as soon as the boy had stepped inside, Hagrid pulled on his coat, heading immediately for Albus' office.

* * *

"It's not like you to sneak into the restricted section, Mione," Ron whispered.

"Yes, well, it's not exactly a normal situation, is it Ron?" she whispered back. "Now be quiet or this cloak won't help us."

Ron pouted but did as she asked. He'd nearly fainted when Hermione had confronted him after dinner, demanding that he nick Harry's invisibility cloak, but when he'd tried to question her she'd responded with some platitude about trust. He was so concerned about Harry by this point that he'd agreed to whatever she wanted, if it would help. But she'd insisted on going alone and he certainly wasn't going to let that happen. So here they were.

"We're in," Hermione whispered. She removed the cloak and tucked it under her arm.

"Now what?" Ron wondered. "What are we looking for?"

"Gold magic," she said. "That's where it started."

Ron nodded and headed further down the aisle. Hermione watched to make sure he was gone before skimming for what she was really looking for: a book about reincarnation. She hated lying to him, but knew that Ron's preconceptions of Merlin wouldn't allow him to be of much help in this case. Hermione walked along the aisles, passing G aisle where Ron stood flipping through books and continuing all the way down to R. She did a search spell for books on reincarnation but only three glowed on the level.

_The Road to Immortality_

Hermione frowned with disgust at that one, remembering all the incarnations of Voldemort she, Ron, and Harry had faced thus far.

_Spirituality and Rebirth_

Well, it certainly wasn't that one. She turned to the last glowing book.

_Reincarnation, a complete analysis._

That one looked promising. Hermione opened it, reading quickly through the contents and flipping to the section on complications.

_Reincarnation is a dangerous and unreliable process, even when cast by the most skilled of wizards. Many complications can arise. The new person may never remember their past life, or if they do, may choose to resist the past life in favor of their current one. Alternatively the memory of the past life may push to the forefront, sometimes taking complete control, or causing a break of the mind into two halves._

Hermione was horrified. She remembered Harry muttering to leave him alone earlier. Her expression dropped as she imagined losing Harry completely, only to be replaced by a solemn Merlin, or another Dumbledore.

_I can't let that happen! I have to reason with Merlin!  
_

Hermione shook her head.

 _Listen to me. I'm talking about Merlin as if he's just another wizard._ _Reason with him? I'll be lucky to get his attention!_

She returned to the contents page and flipped to the section on triggers.

_As previously mentioned, reincarnation can only be initiated with the Cup of Life, and as such, at least one member of the party to be reincarnated must have their memories triggered by the Cup of Life._

An image of Harry standing in the hallway next to the Charms Award came to mind. Hermione felt sick with suspicion.  
  
 _You're thinking too hard on this,_ her mind argued.

But Hermione knew she wasn't. And if the Charms Award truly was the Cup of Life, it couldn't have been coincidence that a book with Merlin's magic _and_ the Cup of Life had somehow wormed their way into Hogwarts. Had someone intended on triggering Merlin's return? The more she considered it, the more it made sense. She had an unsettling feeling that this was all orchestrated somehow, and that Dumbledore was involved.

"Hermione, I found this one," Ron suddenly called, heading down the aisle with a book about druid magic.

Hermione quickly returned her book to the shelf before turning to Ron. "What does it say?" she asked with pretend curiosity.

"I don't know, I haven't read it yet."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, what are you waiting for? Skim through and see if anything matches what Harry's been going through," she said.

Ron complained for another moment before disappearing around the corner and Hermione resumed the actual search.

_Well, orchestrated or not, I'm still going to need to reason with Merlin. Maybe if I look for Arthurian Legends? Or the legend of Merlin?_

Another search revealed there was no book so obvious as to be called the Legend of Merlin, so Hermione was forced to look for Arthurian Legends.

_Prince Arthur and the Warlock Merlin: Pre-Arthurian Age. Wait. Prince Arthur? But he was a king!  
_

She gingerly pulled the book off the shelf and skimmed again, reading the beginnings of the legend.

_Some wizards believe that Merlin wasn't always a powerful wizard. There are rumors that he originally came to Camelot as a youth, during the reign of King Uther._

Hermione's eyes widened. " _What?_ " she hissed.

"Have you found something?" Ron asked.

"Um…" She caught herself. "No. Sorry. Thought I did. How about you?"

"Nothing. All rubbish about druids not using wands. Some mention of Merlin but other than that…" he yawned.

She sighed. "I'll just be a few minutes, Ron, and we'll head back."

She continued to read.

_Merlin did not initially know of his great importance to magic, and was sent to Camelot to hone his skill under the great healer and potion maker, Gaius._

"Gaius," she repeated. That name was familiar. She was sure she'd heard it before.

 _Potions!_ she remembered. They had brewed more than one of Gaius' potions over the years.

_He was Merlin's mentor? Really?_

She flipped some pages forward and read. _As Prince Arthur's servant, Merlin was..._

Hermione nearly dropped the book. _Servant?!_

She looked intensely at the page, unsure whether to believe it or whether it told rubbish. One thing was for sure, Ron couldn't see this. She'd never be able to convince him that the great and powerful Merlin was once a servant. She frowned. It seemed like the closer Hermione got to an answer, the more questions she found.

"Mione! It's Filch!" Ron suddenly hissed.

Footsteps sounded through the otherwise silent library. Hermione reacted quickly, replacing the book on the shelf and ducking under the cloak with Ron. They made a quiet escape past the strict caretaker and toward the common room, but Hermione knew this wasn't her last excursion to the restricted section. After all, she needed that information if she was going to face Merlin and get Harry back.

* * *

It was late when Harry arrived back at his dorm and he had a rather large headache he couldn't get rid of, even with a spell. He sighed. There had been no more comments from Merlin, and for that he was grateful. For some reason, he felt as though Merlin was waiting for Harry to follow Hagrid's advice.

Harry groaned. How did he get himself in these situations?

With a yawn, Harry realized he wasn't going to be able to think tonight. Arguing with Merlin all day had drained him, and avoiding Ron and Hermione hadn't helped. He quickly changed into his pajamas, feeling the tiredness pass through his limbs. By the time he'd packed away his school things for tomorrow, he was nearly asleep on his feet, and fell into bed, into a deep sleep.

"Harry," A voice called.

Harry frowned.

"Harry," It called again.

"Ron, I was _just_ falling asleep. What do you..."

He opened his eyes to an unfamiliar face in front of his.

"Hi!"

Harry jumped up and stumbled backwards before falling down again.

"You're not Ron," he exclaimed, looking around. "Wait! You were in the painting! Are you…?"

The dark haired man grinned. "I'm Merlin."

Harry analyzed the man's purple and golden robes with awe and fear. Merlin looked confused before realizing the problem.

"Oh! Sorry. This must seem really intimidating."

His eyes swept with a solid gold and his clothes changed to the clothes he'd worn when he'd first met Arthur. "There," he said, "That should be more casual."

Merlin held out a hand to Harry, helping him off the ground. Harry stood stiffly, trying not to stare at the unusual piece of red cloth hanging around Merlin's neck.

"Is this in my head?" he asked.

"Of course it's in your head," Merlin said with a scolding tone. "But that doesn't make it any less real, you know."

Harry thought that sounded really Dumbledore-ish, but figured it must come with the territory of living so long. He looked at Merlin, really looked, while they walked. The man was tall, dark-haired, with awkward proportions and the biggest ears Harry had seen. Not exactly how he'd imagined the founder of the wizarding world.

"You're thinking about my ears," Merlin said.

Harry turned red.

"It's okay," he said with a laugh. "I don't mind. I know I'm not the person you expected. To be honest, I thought you'd be angrier, given the amount of torment I've put you through today."

"It's a lot easier to be angry with a formless voice than the actual founder of the wizarding world," Harry admitted reluctantly.

Merlin smirked at that, before leading Harry up some stairs and into a small laboratory with a bed and fireplace.

"I know this place," Harry said.

"I'd be surprised if you didn't."

"This is Gaius' chambers, isn't it? But how do I remember that? It's _your_ memory not mine."

Merlin sighed and motioned for Harry to sit. He did. Merlin sat across from him.

"Harry," he said firmly. "I don't think you understand how this works. You _are_ me."

Harry frowned. "No, _I'm not._ "

Merlin sighed. "When you went to the zoo with your Aunt and Uncle, what happened to the glass?"

"I made it vanish."

"How about when your Aunt Marge became a balloon?"

"I was upset," Harry said. "I couldn't control it."

"You've been using wandless magic since you were just a boy," Merlin said wryly.

"But it's not _just_ me. _Lots_ of wizards do that!" Harry protested. "It disappears when they learn to control their magic."

"In their _third year_?" Merlin countered.

"I was upset."

"Maybe," Merlin said nonchalantly, "or maybe your magic is more reactive, like mine. I had spurts of wandless magic my entire life. I just learned to control it wandlessly."

"I'm not that skilled a wizard," Harry said. "How can I possibly be you? I mean you're the most powerful of us all!"

Merlin chuckled. "And there's the awe," he said. There was a pause. "Even I don't presume to know the exact workings of reincarnation, but I do know this: the old religion makes certain allowances to ensure there is balance."

Harry looked skeptical.

"Think about it.  If you had been born with my magic, Harry, you'd have been whisked off to the Ministry at birth. Instead, you grew up unnoticed, untainted by fame and power, until the time we could remember, and not only control but also hide the magic properly. Now our magic has blended. You can use the old or new spells, with or without a wand, once this settles down."

Harry frowned. "Well my wand still isn't working."

Merlin shook his head. "It won't, yet. Its loyalty has to change. It can't do that until you accept me."

"But I'm not _you_."

"No?" Merlin asked. "Tell me, how is your potions coursework coming along?"

"I have to do it for the second time because the first time blew up in my face," Harry said sourly.

Merlin laughed. "Of course it did."

"Why is that funny?"

"Merlin is hopeless at brewing tinctures and potions." A voice suddenly answered. Merlin had conjured up Gaius from his memory. The man continued. "Oh, he can make a poultice easy enough, but put him near the cauldron and it nearly always ends in disaster."

"You're _Merlin_ , and you can't brew potions?" Harry asked, surprised.

"As it turns out, I did eventually learn the skill, but it took a long time."

"Snape would have a field day if he knew that."

A frown came over Merlin's face. "Unfortunately for Snape, it's none of his business."

Harry held back a grin at Merlin's apparent dislike for the potions professor.

"Of course I dislike him, I've seen how he's treated us."  
  
 He jolted, startled at how easily Merlin plucked that thought from him.

"We _are_ thoughts, Harry," Merlin said, "a combination of memories and feelings, in fact. The truth is, I've been with you since you were born, a form of suppressed memories locked away until the right time. You're the genuine article; you  _are_ me, reborn – _new_ Merlin, if you like. You've got my personality, my skills, my wit, and my tendency to rush into things without thinking."

Harry sat back, taking all that in. He hated to admit it, but Merlin had a point. He couldn't deny how similar he felt to the man in those memories.

"But I'm already the _Boy Who Lived,_ " Harry protested. "People expect things from me, and-"

"And you think I don't know how that feels?" Merlin said. "What do you think they expected of me? Emrys, save magic. Emrys, make King Arthur understand. Emrys, kill Morgana. Emrys, fulfill your destiny..."  
  
He paused. "Do you think I _wanted_ all of that? Do you think I ever chose it? I wanted to be normal just as much as you do. The Boy who Lived? Try being the boy who was _magic incarnate;_ the boy who was going to bring magic _back;_ the most powerful wizard _to be_."

A pang of genuine surprise hit Harry as he realised not only how selfish his statement must have sounded, but also how similar Merlin's situation was to his own.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know, I mean I saw, but I didn't really understand."

Merlin sat down. "I know what it feels like to have expectations placed on your shoulders," he said calmly. "Befriending a man who hated magic and slowly helping him become a fair king was one of the hardest things I ever did."

"I get that," Harry admitted. "But I can't be you _too,_ Merlin. Don't you see? I just can't. I don't know _how_ to be you. The Ministry will want me to rule. I can't rule! I'm only fourteen!"

Merlin tsked. "You don't have to _know_ how to be me, Harry. You _are_ me. And once you've accepted that, these memories and this knowledge will be yours to draw on. The Ministry doesn't have to know anything. Trust me, the last thing we want is to be the head of the Ministry of Magic."

Harry nodded somberly. "Even if I don't have to rule, or be the head of the Ministry, there's still the responsibility that comes with being you. Won't I have another destiny, another prophecy to fulfill?"

Merlin sighed. "Perhaps. I have no way of knowing that."

"Don't you have the sight?"

Merlin snorted. "If by the sight you mean the gods show me things when it's convenient, then yes, not that it was useful in the end. A man's mind is his own, even when he's been prophesied for death."

He saw Harry's look at this and forced himself to calm down. "I didn't at first," Merlin explained. "I could only see things through the crystals. It developed when I became a high priest."

Harry pondered this, knowing what Merlin spoke of. "I just, I don't know if I can take the pain you've gone through."

" _I_ can. You'll be stronger whole."

Harry looked at the table, conflicted.

"You had a headache when you went to bed tonight," Merlin said softly.

Harry nodded.

"If you keep fighting me, they'll get worse," he said somberly. "Because, well, there is one problem with reincarnation. If the memories aren't accepted and integrated, they can develop into another presence. Essentially, it's like two pieces of yourself fighting for dominance. I would never choose to do that, but it's not always a choice. If that happens, one of us will end up overriding the other, or the mind will split and revert between us." Merlin explained.

Harry froze. "But that means I could forget you."

"Or lose yourself forever," Merlin said sadly. "Remember, my experiences outnumber yours, which gives me an advantage. You couldn't shut me out today, and it won't get better tomorrow. But if you let us meld together, you'll have my memories, my experiences, and my strength. We'll be one person, losing nothing in the process."

He watched as Harry took that in.

"Okay," Harry said finally. "Suppose I was okay with all of that. You're still…you're Merlin! I can't just change what I know."

He looked away. "I'll always be in awe of you. I mean, you created this world of magic."

Merlin grinned. "Oh, is that all that's stopping you? I can help with that."

Merlin walked over to Harry and sat next to him.

"May I?" he asked.

"May you what?" Harry responded.

"I want to show you some memories."

"Haven't I seen them all?"  
  
"Not like this."

Merlin placed his index finger on Harry's forehead and Harry suddenly saw Merlin's most vulnerable moments: all the times he'd been punched, poisoned or pelted with fruit; all the times he'd thought he was going to die. Nimueh, Sigan, both sending him flying. The witchfinder and Merlin's fear. The Serkets; their sting. Trying to save King Uther and failing. Dragoon. Morgana throwing Merlin into a wall, _multiple_ times. Being tied up in Morgana's hovel and then being used to try and kill Arthur.

"Why are you showing me this?" Harry asked, suddenly breaking the connection.

Merlin looked at him, surprised. "You need to see that I'm not perfect," he said. "Yes, I created the world you live in, but Harry, I _made mistakes_ along the way."

Harry breathed in deeply and nodded. He'd seen this before but not all together. To have all of Merlin's embarrassing failures placed in front of him at once was sobering.

"Come on, let's walk. There's something else you should see before you make your decision."

They headed down the steps and strolled through the courtyard, heading for the Great Hall. Harry was amazed by the winding steps and many corridors that made up Camelot Castle and Merlin smiled at the wonder on his face.

"This way," he said. "Hurry."

Merlin pushed open the doors to the Great Hall and Harry suddenly found himself and the wizard standing in a memory. Merlin's clothes were finer than before and he looked on proudly.

Harry looked worried.

Merlin shook his head. "They can't see you."

Then Harry glanced to the front of the room and saw a man kneeling on the ground with his head bowed: Arthur Pendragon, about to be crowned king. He breathed in sharply.

"I now crown you _Arthur_ , _King_ of Camelot," Geoffrey said.

Harry let out the breath he was holding in pure reflex. The shock was overwhelming – _seeing_ the mighty king of legend crowned, while standing next to _Merlin_ , no less, was really doing his head in. He found himself caught up in cheers of "Long live the king!" before Merlin led him out.

"What…I mean…that was _amazing_!"

"You've seen it before, briefly," Merlin reminded.

"I saw it, I wasn't standing there in the moment," Harry said. "But I do have a question."

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"Was that _really_ his crown?"

The warlock snorted. "Yes."

"It's just, it looks like the crowns Dudley brings back from Burger King."

Merlin nearly choked with laughter before ruffling Harry's hair. "If ever there was confirmation that you're me..." he admitted. "Already knocking down King Prat. Well done."

He suddenly looked away with sadness. "I've shown you this memory again for a reason. If you accept me, though my experiences will help you, there's one thing that will change.

Harry looked confused.

"You'll want to search for Arthur."

Harry shook his head. "If he's as a good a friend as you remember, why would that bother me?"

Merlin squeezed Harry's shoulder reassuringly before turning to him. "We didn't start off that way. Just don't give up on him."

Harry's face scrunched in confusion. "Are you saying Arthur might be someone I don't like?"

But Merlin wasn't about to elaborate. He glanced toward the younger wizard.

"So, what do you think? Will you accept me? Will you accept that we're the same?"

Harry took a deep breath, but nodded. "Meeting you like this has helped," he said. "You've kind of destroyed all my expectations of Merlin."

"Good. You don't want to be in awe of yourself," Merlin said with a wink.

"One last question."

Merlin rolled his eyes playfully. "You ask a lot of questions."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well, I guess I get that from _you_."

"You're finally understanding," Merlin acknowledged. "What's your question?"

"You, in the painting, you _knew_ didn't you?"

There was a pause, where Merlin appeared to be deep in thought.

"Yes," he finally answered. "A portrait version of me would be able to identify the real me easily."

Harry nodded. "That makes sense," he agreed. "But why do you look worried?"

Merlin shook his head. "It's nothing. Harry, you mustn't go near that painting, do you understand?"

"Why?" Harry asked.

There was a sigh. "You'll understand soon enough."

Harry nodded reluctantly, knowing that once this was finished, he'd get his answers.

"So, what now?" He asked.

"Hold your hands out," Merlin instructed.

He grasped Harry's forearms and instructed Harry to do the same. Harry did as asked. A wind began to spin around them, increasing with intensity.

"This kind of hurts," Harry said.

"Relax," Merlin said softly.

And Harry woke up.

* * *

**And now we have Merlin/Harry. Next: Harry's perspective changes, Harry has a nightmare, and Hermione asks some hard questions.**


	5. Being the Great Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's finally accepted that he and Merlin are one person, however, his teachers are noticing his new skills and Hermione and Ron are getting increasingly suspicious. As the pressure on Harry rises, a nightmare reveals a very unpleasant fact that will truly change his life - that is, more than it already has.

_Weird_. That was the only way he could describe this feeling. There were no remarks from Merlin anymore, and no thoughts from Harry. One person sat inside and he was both. Harry shook off his disorientation. It was normal, he knew, for reincarnation. But having so much sudden knowledge was throwing him off kilter. And he could _see_ the magic in the castle, including the magic of the teachers and students. Everyone's core shone with an intensity that matched their skill. Hermione's was like a fiery sun. He could hardly tear his eyes away from it.

Hermione glanced down at her robes, wondering if she'd accidentally spilled something. However, once her assessment was finished, she folded her arms, directing her attention toward Harry.

"Why are you staring like that?"

He looked away awkwardly. "Nothing," he said. "It's nothing."

She sighed. "Harry, you've been saying odd things all morning and walking around as though you've never seen Hogwart's before in your life."

"Mione's right, Harry. You have been acting barmy. Don't get me wrong, I'll take it over angry Harry. But you're strange, mate."

"Gee, thanks," Harry said, slightly annoyed. "Where's the food anyway?"

"House elves are having a problem. It'll be here any minute now."

Harry leaned on his hand impatiently, debating just magicking the food up. No one would know. After all, if it all came up at once, people would just think the house elves did it. But then again, what if the problem lay in the food not being ready?

Harry groaned. He was brimming with magic he could _finally_ control and he couldn't use it or the Ministry would lock him up. His hands were humming with energy just thinking about it. _Stop,_ he ordered. _Not here_.

The food finally appeared and Harry tucked in. One thing Merlin didn't tell him was how starving he would be once this happened.

_Of course you're starving. You were two people and now you're one. Your brain just had to process another lifetime's worth of memories!_

Harry ignored the thought and focused on the wonderful taste of pancakes, unaware of Ron and Hermione's concerned stares.

* * *

It wasn't much later he found himself heading to Charms. He walked in with Ron and Hermione, but was stopped by Flitwick on the way in.

"Harry," Flitwick said. "I've been meaning to speak to you."

Harry cleared his throat. "Yes, Professor?"

"I wanted to check to see if you were okay. That spurt of wandless magic had us all worried."

"I'm fine, sir."

"Not many students have been able to tap into their magic like you did, and especially not so early. I've been talking to Professor Dumbledore about possibly putting you in a more advanced cl-"

"No!" Harry nearly shouted, but suddenly stopped. "I mean, that's not necessary. It was a one time thing."

Flitwick analyzed him for a moment. Harry was nervous.

"Honestly, it was just once. I don't even know how it happened."

The professor frowned, clearly not believing a word he said.

Harry sighed. "I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore, sir," he finally conceded. "If I'm going to be doing more advanced work, I'd rather it be an independent thing."

That made Flitwick happy and he nodded before proceeding to the front to start the lesson. Harry reluctantly sat down next to Hermione, knowing the questions would soon follow. He wasn't disappointed.

"Why did Flitwick want to speak to you?" Ron asked.

Harry didn't see any harm in letting them know that much. "He was impressed with my shield charm and wants me to take advanced classes."

"Whoa," Ron said.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but she kept quiet, preferring to say nothing. It was a welcome change from the questions but Harry couldn't help but feel there was more to it. Hermione had been on his case since he'd found the book. Why would she just stop?

He sighed, instead choosing to focus on the task Flitwick had set them, but Charms was different this time around. His magic initially rebelled against being forced through such a small conduit, but eventually gave in to his will. It was a stifling feeling, but it wasn't as though he had a choice; use of wandless magic would cause the gold to show in his eyes and that would be a dead giveaway. Still, it did not do anything for Harry's mood. In addition to that, given his now many years of experience and control, the spells proved very easy. Not wanting to be on Flitwick's radar any more than usual, he tried to look as though he wasn't mastering the spells instantly. Flitwick was having none of it.

"You're holding back," Flitwick chastised. "I will settle for nothing less than your best, Harry, now that I know how talented you are."

"Yes, professor," he agreed reluctantly.

Harry frowned. His efforts to stay under the radar were clearly useless. Being Merlin meant he was just too well versed for a fourth-year lesson. It was annoying, but at the same time, he didn't want to move up to a sixth or seventh year lesson and draw _more_ attention to himself.

 _You still don't know all the new spells,_ he scolded. _You might have the magic and the control, but if you don't learn the new words it will be worse. You'll be found out._

Harry glanced over to see how his friends were doing. Hermione smiled as her item flew away just as she banished it. Ron wasn't faring so well. Harry sighed, feeling bad for Ron and heading over to help.

_I hope I don't regret this._

"Here." Harry said, putting his hand around Ron's wrist. "You need to change your grip, and tilt your hand to the right more."

Ron listened to the instructions with curiosity, surprised it was Harry giving them instead of Hermione.

"If you were going to banish an object, you'd wave it away. Do the same thing with your wand."

Ron tried Harry's suggestion and the item went flying into a wall, shattering.

"Definitely an improvement," Harry said.

Now it was Ron who was suspicious. "How'd you know that anyway?" he asked.

"It's nothing. Really. I just…saw this spell before, and you looked like you needed the help."

Hermione didn't look convinced. There was something about the way she was staring at him, _analyzing_ him, that gave him the creeps.

"Harry, your banishing charm nearly sent your bowl out of the room. Everyone else barely got theirs a meter away," she said, finally speaking to him.

"Everyone except _you_ , Hermione," Harry teased.

"Yes, well, that's not the point, is it?" she countered.

Harry cursed softly. He'd hoped a deflection would work, but Hermione was sharper than that.

"No. I think the point is that we have potions next," Harry said, packing up his things. "It's nearly time to go."

Like clockwork, Flitwick dismissed the class just as the hand of the clock hit the designated time. Harry turned to leave.

"Wait! Aren't you going to walk with us?"

"It depends," Harry said.

"On what?"

"On whether you're going to keep asking me questions," Harry said pointedly.

"Well, I wouldn't have to if you'd just tell us what's going on. We both know it's got to do with that book you found, and that magic. Why are you being so secretive?"

" _Nothing's going on_ , Hermione, so just…leave it alone," Harry spat.

With nothing more to say, Harry spun on his heels angrily and stormed out the door.

Hermione folded her arms, annoyed. She'd been trying to get him to admit something, _anything_ , but it seemed Harry wasn't going to divulge. She was certain now that her earlier discovery _had_ to be true. Harry's new found skills were impossible not to notice. But he'd been so different, so foreign, she'd began to wonder if it really was still him, or if Merlin had taken over.

"There is something seriously wrong with him," Ron said, jolting her out of her thoughts.

Hermione sighed. _You have no idea, Ron._

"So, what are we going to do about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"We ought to do something. He's gone bloody mad! It's that bloody magic. I bet it was dark magic."

"I'm not denying that," Hermione agreed, rolling her eyes. "But didn't you see what just happened when we confronted him? We need to watch and wait, choose the time to talk to him carefully."

Ron glanced warily at her. "Why?"

_If only I could tell you, Ron, but you'd never believe me._

She chose her response carefully. "Because, Ron, I think this is bigger than you or I know. It's not just another fight. If we push him, well, who knows what he'll do. Neither you nor I know how powerful he is with that magic."

_Not to mention we don't know if we'd still actually be talking to Harry._

Ron glanced to her with worry. "Hermione?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

She sighed, not disclosing anything. "Come on," she said, "We'll be late for Potions."

* * *

Harry sat in potions, staring forlornly at the wall. Hermione and Ron had arrived and sat next to him warily. He could feel their eyes on him and it made him uncomfortable. He hoped Hermione didn't turn this lesson into an interrogation. Snape began the class and Harry's attention was divided. He perked up as Snape's question caught his ear. Snape was asking a question about herbs. _Herbs_. His new memories meant that he _knew_ herbs.

" _Which_ herb is often used in a potion to relieve lycanthropy but doubles as a very potent poison?" Snape asked.

 _I know that._ Harry raised his hand.

"No doubt this should be amusing," Snape scoffed. "Potter?"

"Aconite," Harry said with enthusiasm. "Also called wolfsbane."

Snape snorted. "That is correct. Seems you've _finally_ cracked your textbook since your first potions lesson."

His head was spinning. _Finally_ , he'd gotten something _right_ in potions. The rest of the lesson would be trickier. Now he actually had to brew a potion correctly.

"To expose you to the entire plant would be…unwise," Snape continued. "Instead you will find the flowers at the front of the room."

Seamus raised his hand.

" _Yes_ , Mr Finnigan?"

"So are we makin' the wolfsbane potion?"

" _No_ , I'm afraid you are _not_. You will be making a pain antidote."

"A what?"

"An antidote to _pain_ , Mr. Finnigan. Page three hundred and twenty two. I _suggest_ you make good use of your time. The potion must _simmer_ for fifteen minutes."

Harry sighed. Great. He'd tried this potion before and it had blown up in his face. He turned to the aforementioned page and raised an eyebrow. This wasn't the same as Gaius' potion. In fact, he could think of several ways to make this potion more effective. He began to skim the ingredients but abruptly stopped when he reached the amount of aconite.

 _No._ That will…

Harry frowned with annoyance. He had to tell Snape about this. The strange part was that, being a potions master, Snape should know. Harry raised his hand.

"Before you begin," Snape said.

"Professor," Harry interjected.

Snape frowned. " _Yes,_ Mr. Potter?"

"This amount of aconite, it's too much. It's going to react violently with-"

"If you would _allow_ me to finish my sentence, _Potter_ , I believe you would find it most _enlightening,_ " Snape chastised.

Harry nearly shrunk back out of habit, but now defiance was even more ingrained into his personality and he folded his arms instead.

"As I was _saying_ , you must check the ingredients in your book. If you have the misfortune of having purchased a _used_   _or previous edition_ of your book then you will need to change the amount of aconite to 1/8 of a leaf.

Harry sighed with annoyance. Being Merlin wasn't going to be easy, it seemed. He collected his leaf and returned to his cauldron to begin brewing.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "How did you know that, Harry?"

"Yeah, since when did you become an expert in potions?" Ron whispered.

Harry bit back a retort. "I've been doing a lot of reading," he said sharply.

Ron and Hermione winced. Before they could respond Harry interrupted.

"I really should get started."

Hermione looked to Ron with worry, before starting her potion as well.

Harry began preparing the ingredients, and tossing them in, pretending to be focused, but his attention was divided. Hermione and Ron were past suspicious but they'd never believe the truth. Yet if they became too concerned they'd bring this to Dumbledore's attention and Harry didn't want the man giving him any more odd looks.

He rubbed his eyes, and made a note of the one remaining ingredient.

"I could have sworn I put that in, but I haven't ticked it," Harry muttered. He glanced at the potion warily.

Ron looked at him, curious. "Harry?"

"I forgot how much honeywater I used," Harry explained worriedly.

"Well it's only honeywater. Add more. What could it hurt?"

"Because that will turn out well," he quipped.

Harry glared at Ron, and then at the potion, frustrated. _I knew this was going to happen!_

Years ago he'd set his magic to reflexively check the ingredients he used as he made the potions, but now he couldn't use that magic, and he'd forgotten to check the ingredients manually.

_Something so simple I would've remembered just as Harry._

Well, he had no choice, it seemed. He winced as he added what may or may not have been the second lot of honeywater. The potion began to fizzle and fill up the cauldron. Harry jumped back as it began to bubble over and eat through the table, restraining his magic until he could think of a proper word to let it loose. But all he knew was the old language, and given this was now a safety issue, there was really no choice. His eyes began to turn color.

Then Snape stepped in.

"Potter. Why am I not surprised? I knew this show of competence couldn't last," Snape muttered. "Stand back."

The potion was about to eat through the floor but Snape muttered a spell and the entire potion turned to water.

"For your lack of organization, Gryffindor will lose twenty points," Snape said and turned back to monitor the rest of the class.

" _Twenty?_ " Harry exclaimed.

Snape turned to reply with a scowl still on his face. "What did you expect? You could've killed someone. You're lucky I didn't take _fifty_."

Harry frowned, fighting the urge to let his magic turn Snape into a braying ass.

"This is why I _hate_ potions," he complained, and started his potion again.

* * *

He just knew lunch wasn't going to be fun. Hermione and Ron had lots of questions and been trying to corner him. Yet, Harry had no answers for them. He'd thought about just telling them the truth, but again, even if they somehow believed him, they never see him in the same way, and Hermione might even convince him that his duty was to run the Wizarding World. No, he had to keep it to himself.

Harry hesitated outside the Great Hall, wondering if it would be better to just magic his dinner up to the dorm. But then, McGonagall would notice and start to pester him about his well being. She was already suspicious. He frowned, frustrated. _Everyone is suspicious!_

He resigned himself to sit down at the lunch table, looking forlornly at the empty plate in front of him.

"Harry! There you are!" Hermione exclaimed. "Where did you go?"

"Toilets," Harry answered noncommittally.

Hermione folded her arms. "You've been avoiding us."

"That's just silly, Hermione."

"What was that all about in potions?" Ron asked.

"I told you, I've been doing some reading," Harry covered.

"The only thing I've seen you reading is that old book, and that's not about potions or herbs," Ron countered.

"How do you know that?" Harry asked with a glare.

"I looked at it."

"What gives you the right to go through my things?" Harry exclaimed.

"The fact that you're being a right prat," Ron spat.

Harry froze at the familiar word – the familiar word that was usually said by him.

"Is that what you really think?" he asked, trying to seem unaffected by their comments.

"Yeah," Ron said. "Something's wrong with you. Anyone can see it."

Hermione sat silently, the analyzing look in her eyes again. "There's something you're not telling us, Harry, we're not blind. And you've been so different lately, we don't know what to think."

Ron nodded. "She's not wrong," he agreed. "That magic you were using – it's like you've suddenly got it mastered. Harry, if that's dark magic, do you know what that stuff _does_ to you?"

"It's not dark magic," Harry said. "It's just…old."

"That doesn't mean it's harmless," Hermione whispered, "and anyway, it's not too late. We can still tell McGonagall or Dumbledore, get them to help."

Harry sighed. "The magic is the least of my worries. Just trust me, Hermione. This is something you _don't_ want to know. I'll be fine. Things will go back to normal."

"Normal?" Hermione suddenly hissed, about to begin a rant. "Nothing has been normal since you found that book! You were already good at Charms and now suddenly you're mastering spells in seconds! You're using words no one knows to do magic. You suddenly know herbs and correct potions recipes as if you've been using them all your life. When people aren't looking, you stare at them like you're looking straight through them. Harry, _people have noticed_ , and Gryffindor is talking!"

Harry stood up defensively, causing the rest of Gryffindor and some of the other houses to turn and watch the spectacle.

"I don't give a damn what Gryffindor is saying. If I tell you, you'll never look at me the same again," Harry argued.

"We're your friends, Harry. That isn't going to suddenly change."

"You'd think so, but you have no idea," he muttered.

"Just tell us," Hermione encouraged.

"I _can't_!" Harry said angrily. "Don't you understand that?"

"Then maybe you can live with having no friends instead," Ron spat.

"If I have to," Harry retorted and stormed out of the Great Hall.

* * *

Harry didn't sleep well that night. In his dreams, he found himself facing down aurors in the Great Hall. They came for him as he ate his dinner, but Harry slowed time and ran past them. They turned and gave chase.

"No! I'm not Merlin!" he exclaimed. "You've made a mistake!"

He ran into Hermione. "Harry, stop. Think of all the good you could do."

He shrugged her off. "You don't understand."

Harry passed Cho and Neville. "Harry? The ministry's looking for you. Harry?"

"Should have told us," Ron said, stepping in front of him. "We would have protected you."

Harry was near tears now, and shoved past, running anywhere to get away from the sound of aurors chasing him. He turned toward the dungeons – they'd never think to find him there. One of the Slytherin boys spotted him.

"He's _this_ way!" Blaise shouted.

Harry ran faster. He made it as far as the door to the Slytherin common room when Snape walked out.

" _You_? _Merlin_? Don't make me laugh. You can't even brew a potion correctly."

Harry hesitated long enough for the aurors to find him.

"This is for your own good, Merlin," one auror said.

"You don't belong here," another continued.

He turned around. A third auror had come up behind him. "You must come to the ministry."

"No!" Harry exclaimed and the aurors went flying backward. A powerful wind circled around him, preventing anyone from getting close.

"I just want to live out my life undisturbed," Harry said. "Tell the Ministry I'm not interested."

"We can't let you do that," the third said.

"We can't take him by force," another replied. "We need to tell Fudge."

They began to retreat one by one. Snape snorted as he walked past Harry toward the potions stores. Harry backed into the wall, his heart pounding as he allowed himself to slide down the wall and drape his arms over his knees.

"Have you been here all night?" Arthur's voice suddenly asked.

Harry looked up with confusion and surprise. "Arthur?"

The king's face was shrouded in darkness. Harry frowned. Arthur couldn't possibly be there. This must be a dream. As soon as he realized this, Harry could feel himself waking up. The dingy darkness was broken by light and the world blurred as he tried to open his eyes.

Blonde hair. _Arthur._ He felt his friend's presence. Was Arthur really _here_? But Arthur's words faded, replaced by something harsher.

"Look at Potter," Draco said. "This is priceless. Has he been there all night?"

 _That_ snapped Harry out of his dream. Horrified, he jumped up clumsily from the floor. His vision cleared, blonde hair turned to platinum, and Arthur's shrouded figure disappeared to reveal Draco standing in his place.

 _No_. He thought. _No._

The connection remained; he could never mistake it. Draco Malfoy was Arthur Pendragon.

* * *

**Poor Harry, that's a tough blow. In the next chapter, Harry finally confides in Hermione and Ron, and tries to deal with the news of Draco being Arthur.  
**


	6. Friendships are hard work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry struggles to cope with the newest revelation while Hermione continues to pressure Harry. Convinced that he's possessed, Hermione and Ron draw Harry into a standoff, where he must reveal the truth or fight his own friends.

The day after Harry's realization had been hard to say the least. He knew Arthur might be someone he didn't like but he'd never have suspected _Draco._ In fact, he was so convinced he'd been wrong that he'd spent most of the day rationalizing the connection away, determined that he'd been tired, or mistaken or his magic had malfunctioned somehow. He'd funneled the frustration and anger into his lessons, not bothering to hold back. His professors had watched him with apprehension and Hermione had sent him wary glances. Ron just ignored him, which was no surprise. Clearly his friend had had enough. It was when he'd sat on the common room sofa instead of heading to lunch that Hermione finally approached him.

"Harry, aren't you going to eat?"

"No," he said crossly.

"Why?"

"Not in the mood."

"What happened?" she asked.

"Don't bother, Hermione!" Ron called out as he descended the stairs. "It'll just be another secret he can't tell us."

Harry turned to glare, but the look of inner turmoil on Hermione's face stopped him. Ron saw her hesitation and threw his arms up in defeat before stomping out of the common room. They continued to stare at one another, both unsure what else to say. Both Hermione and Harry were headstrong, one determined to get answers and the other determined not to give them, but neither was budging. Hermione suddenly sighed, resigned to some outcome Harry wasn't aware of.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head and turned to leave. "You really should get some lunch. See you in lesson."

Harry paused, not sure how to respond. He hadn't realized it before, but something was up. Hermione's reactions were more than odd. She should have been raving mad at him by now. Instead she was resigned, worried. Harry froze.

 _No way._ He thought. _Does she know?_

* * *

In the end Harry didn't feel like facing the Great Hall and had conjured the ingredients to make a sandwich. Doing something made him feel slightly better, and took his mind off the fact that Draco was possibly the incarnation of his former best friend. He'd packed his things for lessons along with his spell book and headed out early to avoid the stares of Gryffindor students returning from lunch.

Harry headed for the library, hoping to find some peace and quiet there. Then his day took a turn for the worst.

"Are you all ready for Slytherin to win, tomorrow, _Potter_?" Malfoy suddenly taunted. "Or did you come to our common room last night to beg for _mercy_?"

It was meant to provoke him, and normally Harry wouldn't have given it the time of day. Today, however, was not a good day for taunts.

"Shut up, Malfoy," he snapped, "unless you want me to hex you all the way into the Forbidden Forest."

Draco snickered. "You're lucky if you can hex something into a wall."

"You'd think that," Harry spat. "Keep testing me and you'll see how wrong you are."

Harry waited but Draco didn't move or speak, instead looking mesmerized by something on Harry's face. Harry blinked, realizing what Draco must be seeing.

_The gold. It must be showing! Calm down._

Harry shifted, and saw Draco doing the same nervously. Had the Slytherin wizard heard the rumors? Was he nervous? Harry hoped so. Maybe it would teach Malfoy a lesson about picking fights. They stood staring for another moment before Draco finally turned away to leave, but not before taking another glance at Harry's face, his expression unreadable.

"You're not worth my time anyway," Draco muttered.

Harry glanced at the Slytherin wizard's retreating figure with both anger and sadness as he remembered words from some days ago:

_Don't give up on him._

* * *

Harry's head needed clearing, and he wasn't going to get relief in the Gryffindor common room, or even the dorms. He put on his jacket.

"Where are _you_ going so late?" Ron asked.

"None of your business," Harry spat.

"I figured," Ron retorted. "Then again, I'm not surprised. You've changed so much it's more like having Malfoy around."

Harry paused, the anger in his chest rising. He turned with his wand out and pointed at Ron. "You take that back!" he said.

Ron froze.

Tears glistened in Harry's eyes, but didn't fall. "Take. It. Back!" he said angrily.

Ron blinked, stumbling backward and grabbing his wand protectively before regaining his senses. "Why should I? It's bloody true!"

"You know what your problem is, Ron? You're always thinking about yourself!"

Ron was taken aback by this.  
  
"You don't know what's going on, Ron," Harry chastised. "This is something you need to leave alone."

"Hard for me to understand when you keep _lying_ to me and Hermione," Ron spat.

"Do you think this is _easy_ for me? To lie to the two best friends I've ever had?"

He could see the doubt swirling in Ron's eyes at that statement, and for a moment questioned whether he should just tell Ron and get it over with. But Harry knew he couldn't. Being Merlin – it was too new, too fresh in his mind. He hadn't quite accepted it yet, how could he expect Ron to accept it?

Harry sighed.

"Look, I'm sorry that you don't think I'm the same person lately. The truth is I'm not. I can't help that and I can't tell you why. So I get if you don't want to be friends anymore, but just stop saying rude things to me. It's hard enough and you're not helping."

Ron stood still, properly chastised and slightly fearful at the raw power that seemed to be pooling in Harry's eyes. He simply nodded, unable to speak, but finally pulled his wand away from Harry's face. Harry's eyes returned to normal as he turned to walk away. Ron couldn't help but think that Harry looked defeated as he left the dorm, and wondered just what was so terrible that Harry felt he had to deal with it alone.

* * *

"Hagrid!" Harry called, knocking on the door.

"Just a second," he heard before the door opened.

"Harry!" Hagrid exclaimed with surprise, looking at the boy's disheveled state. "What's happened?"

"Everything," Harry said simply.

Hagrid motioned him inside and into a chair while he fixed Harry a cup of tea. Finally sitting across from Harry, he frowned.

"I hate ter say it but yeh look miserable. Have yeh still got the great wizard in yer head?"

Harry glanced down at his tea, still wondering why Hagrid had believed him before, but pushed it to the back of his head because he needed the reassurance and the help.

"No," he said softly.

Hagrid's eyes widened and he watched Harry carefully.

"Then…?"

Harry smiled weakly as he sipped the tea. "I…listened to him, Hagrid. I'm, well, I'm both now, as weird as that is."

Hagrid froze.

"Don't worry," he said. "I wasn't forced into anything. We sort of had a talk in my head and agreed that we're actually the same person."

He sighed.

Hagrid was finally able to move again, but there was a slight wariness in his eyes.

"You probably want proof," Harry said, resigned. "Here."

He glanced at the window and rain suddenly began to pour down. Harry could see the students dashing to the nearest overhang or entrance to the school, covering their heads. Harry blinked and the rain suddenly stopped. He turned to look at Hagrid again, the gold fading rapidly from his eyes.

"I don't know what ter say," Hagid said with shock.

"Say you still know I'm me," Harry said. "Treat me like you used to."

Hagrid paused. "It's hard not ter be amazed."

"That's fair," Harry admitted calmly. "To be honest I sort of expected it."

"Have you told Ron and Hermione yet?" Hagrid asked.

Harry frowned. "No. But they can see that I'm different. They've been interrogating me every day," he said, his voice going soft. "They don't understand that I can't tell them."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why can't yeh tell 'em?"

"Oh come on, Hagrid. You think they'd believe me? And even if by some miracle they did, how do you think they'd look at me? Kind of like you just did a minute ago.'"

"I think yeh need ter have more faith in 'em," Hagrid said. "No it ain't easy ter believe, but they're yer friends. They'll try. It might take them a while ter get used ter but they won't leave yeh."

"I wish there was some way to know how they'd react," Harry sighed. "I must've conjured up a hundred scenarios."

"The only way ter know is just to get it over with."

"I wish it were that simple," Harry said. "I haven't really been able to think about it lately; I've had other things on my mind."

"Other things?" Hagrid wondered. "What could be more important than learnin' yer Merlin an' keepin' it from yer friends?"

"I found Arthur."

It felt like a chasm had suddenly opened between them. Hagrid swallowed nervously, trying not to look as shocked as he felt. Harry tried not to look amused.

"Did I just hear yeh right…did yeh just say yeh found _Arthur_?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said. "That's what I said, and he's a student."

If Hagrid looked in shock before, now he looked absolutely flummoxed. "Wasn't King Arthur a muggle? What's he doing in a school for witches 'n wizards?"

"That's the million knut question," Harry admitted. "But I think it's because of me."

"Wait, wasn't Arthur only meant teh appear when the world was endin'?"

Harry sighed, worry in his eyes. "That too. But that's not what worries me. I get the feeling Arthur won't be helping anyone this time around."

Hagrid paused, curious at the unsaid words in that statement. "Why?" he asked. "Who is he?"

"Don't laugh," Harry warned.

"Couldn't if I tried," Hagrid admitted.

"Okay, well, from what I can tell, Arthur is Malfoy."

Hagrid fought to hold back a snort of disbelief. "That little blonde bundle a' prejudice is the great _king_?"

"Well, he wasn't always a great king," Harry retorted. "Spent most of his life being a bloody prat."

The half-giant was looking at him with wide eyes.

"Right, so yeah, he was like Malfoy when we met."

"The books say yeh were good friends," Hagrid said awkwardly, still not really comfortable with talking to Merlin.

"We were," Harry said softly. "So talking to Malfoy is like starting over again. That's hard. It's hard to know that the person who understood me the best is now the person who hates me the most."

He took a breath. "And I get why it has to be Malfoy, I really do, I mean it makes sense. But I don't get what I've done to deserve having to re-shape Arthur as a person _again_."

"It might be hard," Hagrid said. "But there must be a reason fer this, Harry. You should tell Hermione an' Ron. They'll help you through it."

"They hate Malfoy," Harry said.

"Doesn't mean they won't respect yer wishes," Hagrid countered.

Harry allowed his head to fall forward onto his hands. "Yeah, you try telling Ron I've got to befriend Malfoy. He'll have a field day. He's already onto me about _acting like Malfoy_ this week."

Hagrid chuckled. "Yer not even close to being like Malfoy, Harry. Stress does lots 'a things teh people and yeh can't blame yerself."

"Thanks Hagrid," Harry said. "Thanks for listening."

"Yer welcome," Hagrid said. "But I wonder if I could ask one thing."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Okay..." he said with uncertainty.

"Oh don't worry!" Harry said nervously. "I just want yeh to come back and tell me all sorts a' stories from, yeh know, when yeh lived before."

Harry grinned for the first time that day. "I was worried about people treating me like this, but it doesn't feel that way around you, Hagrid. I'll come back and tell you lots of stories, but only if you tell _me_ something."

Hagrid straightened in his seat. "What's that?"

"Tell me why you're so at ease with the idea that I'm Merlin."

Hagrid let out a breath, as if to scold himself for being too obvious.

"Tell no one," he warned.

"I won't."

"There's a secret society called the Society of Merlin," he said in a whisper. "Got a friend who's a member. Tells me all sorts a' things, like how Merlin's magic was waiting in a book fer him to be reborn – a book I'm guessin' is yours now."

Harry nodded, his eyes lighting with interest. "Are any of the other Professors members of the Society?"

"Can't tell yeh that, it's private."

Harry would bet his magic that Dumbledore was a member. "What about the Ministry?"

"They founded it."

Harry swallowed back bile at that bit of knowledge, before composing himself to ask one last question.

"One more thing. Does the society have any of Merl...I mean, of, um, _my_ other books?" he asked sheepishly. "I'd like to have them back."

"Don't really have the answer to that one, 'm afraid. I'm really just on a 'need to know' basis."

Harry nodded. "Thanks Hagrid," he said innocently, "Let me know if you learn anything else."

"I told yeh, Harry. Anytime."

Harry nodded and waved goodbye before standing up and heading out into the cold. 

Harry felt much less burdened since leaving the small hut on the grounds the night before. Hagrid was right that he needed to tell his friends, regardless of the outcome. If things continued, he'd lose them anyway. They'd just have to deal with the fact that Malfoy was Arthur. To be honest, he still wasn't sure how he felt about that. When he'd first met Arthur, there had been no prior judgments, no history, and it was easier for him to go about giving Arthur a chance. Now he wondered how he was meant to look past all the hateful history with Malfoy and give him the same chance he had years ago. It wasn't going to be easy, and he knew it would be a full-on fight with Ron. But this was his life now, and he needed to face it.

* * *

Hermione and Ron ambushed him before lunch and forced him to come and eat in the Great Hall. He knew there was no chance of refusing. They were determined. This would be the time, it seemed.

"Come on, guys, you can let me go! It's not like I'll run off."

"We're not stupid, Harry. The first chance you get you'll go to the common room, and we have some questions for you."

"You always have questions for me," he said, annoyed. "Not that I blame you but you're embarrassing me."

They entered the Great Hall with Hermione and Ron dragging Harry in, each clutching an arm lest he try to escape. Nearly all of the Gryffindors turned to watch with curiosity and apprehension. Harry saw their wary glances and finally began to realize just how much he'd been out of touch with everything. They _were_ afraid of him.

Hermione and Ron sat next to Harry to prevent a hasty escape and he found himself slipping back into his foul mood from yesterday.

"This isn't necessary. You could have just asked me to come and eat with you today."

"Like you did yesterday? You've been avoiding us and our questions," Hermione said sharply, "and you're going to answer them today.""

Harry sighed. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Hermione and Ron both blinked with surprise.

"You mean you're actually going to answer?" Hermione asked.

"Sure. But I can tell you now, you won't like the answers."

She frowned. "Let us deal with that."

"If you say so," Harry said sharply.

"I told you he'd just act like a git!" Ron spat, glaring at Hermione. "He's not going to tell us anything."

Harry gritted his teeth. "Shut up, Ron. The reason I haven't told you is because I know how you'll react – like this!"

"Both of you, _stop_!" Hermione exclaimed.

It got her looks from Seamus and Neville, who were curiously watching the whole exchange.

"No, Mione. I'm done. If he doesn't want friends that's fine with me," Ron said.

"You don't mean that, Ron," Hermione protested.

Harry suddenly stood. "Enough of this," he said, and turned to leave.

Hermione and Ron looked at him with apprehension.

"Well? Come on. I'll answer your questions, but not here."

They still didn't move. "That's what you _wanted_ , isn't it?"

Still no movement. He sighed and turned to walk away.

"What? Right now?" Ron said in protest. "Let's at least _eat_ first," he grabbed his drink to take with him.

"I'll conjure up some food, Ron," Harry whispered, dropping the charade.

" _What_? Harry, _Dumbledore_ can't conjure up food. What are you on about?"

He turned. "Mione, what is he on about?"

Harry sighed and began to leave. Hermione sent Ron a glare and both began to follow Harry into a small corridor off the beaten path. Harry glanced around before sealing off the exit to sound.

"Right. So I guess I have been cross the past week."

"Bloody understatement," Ron muttered.

Harry glared. "The reason behind it, well, it's because…Malfoy is Arthur."

"He's crackers," Ron said, turning to Hermione for an answer. "Who's Arthur?"

Harry rubbed his eyes, trying to alleviate the permanent headache he'd become accustomed to this past week.

"King Arthur," Hermione said solemnly, before Harry could comment.

Harry glanced up, surprised.

"You think _Malfoy_ is _King_ _Arthur?_ Oh no, crackers isn't the word anymore…you've gone _mad_!"

Harry met Hermione's piercing gaze. "You know, don't you?"

She nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I had to be sure," she said. "and I didn't want to provoke you. Harry, how much of you is still left in there?"

"Mione? What does that mean?" Ron asked with confusion. "Are you in on this too?"

"Oh stuff it, Ron, you know I wouldn't keep it from you if it wasn't necessary."

"So that research we were doing, about druid magic…"

"Well, to be honest, I misled you slightly with that."

He made to protest but Hermione shushed him. " _You_ insisted on coming, remember?"

Ron frowned. "So if Malfoy is King Arthur, why do you care?"

They both looked at Ron as though he'd grown a second head.

"Do you really not know?" Hermione asked.

"What are you trying to say?" Ron said.

"I'm Merlin, Ron," Harry said softly.

Ron nearly spat out the drink from his mouth, but managed to save his dignity and gulped it instead. "Merlin!" he cried. "The great wizard Merlin! Bloody hell, what are you on!"

Harry folded his arms and Hermione just sighed.

"You're serious?" Ron asked. "But that- it doesn't even make sense!"

"It makes a _lot_ of sense. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't see it," Hermione explained. "You read that book about druid magic in the restricted section; the old magic shows itself as a golden hue in the iris. And even if you didn't remember that, surely you must've noticed the way Harry's suddenly become an _expert_ in just about every lesson, and using _wandless_ magic? Talking about King Arthur should've just been the last bit of proof!"

Harry sighed. "Speaking of which-" he tried to interject.

"You still haven't answered my question," Hermione said sharply.

"That's because I'm not really sure how to answer."

Her eyes suddenly met his with an icy glare. "Then you've admitted it. You're not Harry at all. We're talking to Merlin."

"It's not that simple," Harry said.

"Then make it simple."

Ron finally recovered from shock. "Hermione, don't provoke him," he hissed. "If that's really Merlin, if Harry's really been…possessed…"

"I _know_ , Ron," she said sternly. "I don't care."

"Give Harry back," she ordered.

Harry made to move. Hermione tensed. Ron could feel his heart beating out of his chest with nervousness. Then Harry sighed.

"I'm different, I know," Harry admitted. "But I'm still me, _and_ I'm Merlin. It's like…well, we're the same person. The book made me remember."

"Prove it," Hermione said.

Harry frowned. "How?" He asked honestly. "I could tell you every detail of how this all came about, but…would you believe me?"

"I don't know," Hermione admitted.

"Exactly," Harry countered. "I mean, for a while it _was_ me and Merlin fighting for control. But I saw some things…"

He trailed off, before meeting Hermione's gaze. "It made me realize how similar we are and we just sort of...merged."

"Then show us that. Show us Merlin isn't taking you over…that you're the same."

"Are you crazy, Mione? Harry's not the same as Merlin! It's mad to even think that."

"Let him try, Ron," Hermione pleaded, daring to hope that Harry wasn't gone forever.

Harry sighed. "Not here. I need absolute privacy," Harry said. "Follow me."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Where are we going?"

"To the forbidden forest."

"What? Why?"

"It's a trap," Ron whispered. "We _can't_ go."

"I _can_ actually hear you, Ron," Harry snapped.

Ron paled.

"I'm going, so follow me if you want," he said softly.

Harry turned to head for the forest, and so they had no choice but to follow for the sake of answers. Both were slightly afraid at how quiet their friend had become. Hermione wondered what that meant for them. Suspicion still ran high and Hermione wasn't quite convinced this was anything but a trick, but if there was even the slightest possibility that this was Harry, she had to let him try to explain. Ron was uncharacteristically quiet but inside he was fighting a battle. Disbelief still rang true in his head but also intense _fear._ Ron's dad had told him once that Merlin would come back one day, and though he hadn't believed it at the time, he'd known that if the great wizard ever did return, he could be very _dangerous_. 

They reached the forest and it became clear that Harry wasn't holding back anymore.

" _Leoht,_ " he said, holding out his hand, and walked on into the forest as if conjuring a wandless light was the most normal thing in the world.

After a moment he turned back to see if Hermione and Ron were following, the gold in his eyes slowly fading.

"Well?" he asked, adjusting his glasses.

Ron met Hermione's gaze. She nodded. "Yes."

They followed him halfway through the forest, until they reached a clearing with a pond. Harry walked toward it silently, leaning down and running his hand through the water. He looked back at his petrified friends and sighed.

"You think I'm crazy for even bringing up Merlin," Harry said to Ron. "What if you could see him as he- as _I_ really was? Not this powerful person who was revered, but just a guy who happened to be thrown into a destiny I didn't want? Doesn't that sound like me?"

He said it pleadingly, willing them to understand.

Ron gulped.

"I don't know what you're afraid of," Harry said, still slightly annoyed. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The slight edge to his voice brought tenseness to the atmosphere, one that Hermione didn't take well to.

"We still don't know that," she countered, her wand at the ready. "At this point it's impossible to know if it's you or Merlin pretending to be you to get us to trust him."

Harry frowned. "If I was really like that don't you think I'd have just put you under mind control?"

Both Hermione and Ron tried hard not to twitch at those words, but it was clear that fear was starting to set in. Hermione bit her lip.

"Do your worst," she said. "But I won't stand by and let you possess Harry."

"Mione!" Ron hissed. "You can't fight _Merlin_."

"I will if I have to," she said.

Harry gritted his teeth. "Stop it!" he exclaimed. "I'm still _me_! Why are you guys so stubborn?"

A strong wave of power flew outward, causing ripples in the water and knocking the leaves off nearby trees. Harry saw the fear in his friends' eyes and took a breath to calm his anger.

"Look, I didn't _want_ to be Merlin at first. I admit it. I thought what you did. But no one's controlling _anyone_. I'm Harry. I'll always _be_ Harry. I _was_ Merlin. I just…didn't know."

They stood, frozen to their spot, unable to say anything. Harry sighed and motioned for them to come and sit next to the water. Reluctantly, they did as asked.

"I'm going to show you some memories – memories that Merlin showed me before we – well, before we merged. Hopefully you'll see why we're the same."

Harry paused, glancing at the apprehensive faces of two of his friends, but not expecting a response. He ran his hand through the water calmly, like before, except this time images could be seen in the water. They were images of Camelot through Merlin's eyes as he walked inside for the first time.

Hermione and Ron watched intently, their fear suddenly replaced with amazement.

A king stood on a balcony, while a crowd gathered below around a pyre. The man tied to it was calling out, cursing the king. The king condemned him for using magic. The fire was lit.

The scenery changed as Merlin left and headed through the town, toward the Court Physician's chambers. A man stood on a bookshelf and turned suddenly at the noise. He fell. Hermione and Ron watched as time literally slowed, and the bed _moved_ to under the man before he could fall. Time snapped back into place and the man's shocked gaze fell on Merlin. It was suddenly very obvious that they were witnessing Merlin's life. Hermione turned to Harry with a questioning glance but he motioned toward the water.

Another part of the castle came into view, of men throwing knives at a moving target. They watched from Merlin's perspective as he laid his foot on the strayed shield. Sound suddenly permeated the air.

"Come on, that's enough."

Merlin's youthful voice came as a shock to the watching witch and wizard.

" _What_?" The blonde knight asked.

"You've had your fun, my friend."

Hermione observed intensely as the knight walked over. He looked young, a bully.

"Do I know you?" he asked.

"I'm Merlin."

"So I don't know you."

"No."

"Yet you called me…friend."

"That was my mistake."

"Yes, I think so."

"Yeah. I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass."

Ron snorted.

"Nor I one who could be so stupid," the man responded. "Tell me, _Merlin_ , do you know how to walk on your knees?"

They heard the defiant tone. "Nope."

"Would you like me to help you?"

"I wouldn't if I were you."

"Why? What are you going to do to me?" the man asked, laughing.

"You have _no_ idea," Merlin retorted.

"Be my guest," the knight offered.

"Git's like Malfoy," Ron said.

Hermione chanced a glance at Harry. "Who is he?" She asked.

But Harry motioned toward the water.

"Come on!" The knight goaded. "Come on! _Come on…_ "

They watched through Merlin's eyes as he swung at the man and the man locked his arm behind his back.

"I could put you in jail for that," The knight threatened.

"Who do you think you are, the _king_?" Merlin spat.

"No, I'm his _son, Arthur,_ " The knight said.

The water went clear for a moment, allowing Hermione and Ron to take in that revelation. They were struggling not to choke on air.

" _That_ was King Arthur?" Hermione exclaimed.

"At the beginning," Harry admitted quietly.

There was suddenly the image of a cave, a dragon.

"There must be another Arthur, because this one's an idiot," Merlin said.

"Perhaps it is your destiny to change that," a wise voice answered.

Another image came to light: of a dark woods, and a person's (undoubtedly Merlin's) arms. There were chains on them with odd runes and Hermione and Ron watched from Merlin's point of view as he tried multiple spells and failed to free himself. Hermione covered her mouth with shock as his heart-wrenching yell split the air. She looked toward Harry.

"It was a Serket," he said.

"No _way,_ " Ron said, amazed. "I thought they didn't exist."

Hermione turned, confused.

"It's like a really big, bad-assed scorpion," Ron said.

"It stung me."

Hermione froze. "How did you even survive?"

"Luck," Harry said. "The dragon saved me."

The water lit for the last time, this time showing a deserted town and ghosts flying around. One took shape suddenly, causing Ron and Hermione to scramble backward in terror. A light began to shine in Merlin's hand but suddenly fizzled out, and Merlin moved out of the way with a terrified cry, muttering worriedly about his magic.

The images suddenly stopped, leaving them in darkness. Hermione and Ron turned toward Harry, their eyes full of amazement and fear.

"Don't look at me like that," Harry protested. "I only showed you because you didn't believe me. I wanted you to see Merlin, see _me,_ before I was revered, thought of like a god. I wasn't infallible; I made mistakes, and I didn't ask for the destiny that life gave me."

Hermione's eyes softened. "Dumb luck," she said.

Harry looked surprised. "What?"

"Dumb luck. It's what you and Merlin have in common."

Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that.

She sighed. "I can see it," she said. "Why you're the same. Like you said."

He fought back a grin, not wanting to be to push his luck.

"Ron?" he asked cautiously. Harry stepped forward, but Ron stepped back.

"Come _on_ , Ron," He coaxed. "It's still me. I'm still the one you sat next to on the train, the one who defended you to Malfoy when he insulted your family. I'm still the person who you rescued from the Dursley's with your dad's car. I'm still _Harry_!"

Ron paused, meeting Harry's worried gaze.

"I know I seem different. I'm going to. I have another lifetime worth of memories in my head and it's hard enough to deal with without my friends thinking I'm possessed."

"It's not that," Ron said quietly.

Harry paused. "It's _not_?"

"No."

There was a moment of silence before Ron began to explain.

"I grew up in a wizarding family, Harry."

Harry wasn't sure where he was going with this.

Ron paused. "You have to understand, Merlin is like a _god_ to us. And now…now…"  
  
Ron gulped. "Now he's my friend."

Harry froze. He'd gotten his acceptance, but it was a double edged sword. He sighed. "I get it, Ron. I do."

"It's going to take a while for both of us to get used to this, Harry," Hermione said.

"I know," he said sadly. "Just…don't forget, I'm still me, and still your _friend_."

At those words, something softened in Hermione's gaze, and for the first time in weeks, she actually saw _Harry_ again. She walked over, pulling him into a tight hug. Harry didn't resist.

"I'm sorry," she said. "This must have been so hard for you."

"It still is," he said, letting out a snort of disbelief. "You guys think this is hard to believe? Try being me right now."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it, and was soon joined by Ron and Harry. Initially the laughs were nervous, but soon became genuine. The only way to truly process everything that had happened was to laugh, to let it all out. And when they all stopped, it was somehow different. There were possibilities now, a future.

Ron looked around a couple of moments before folding his arms and facing Harry. "So, can we go back now? These woods are really creepy."

Harry nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, we can."

Harry walked ahead, this time using _lumos_ to light the way. It eased Ron and Hermione's minds as they walked behind.

"We can do this, Ron."

"He's _Merlin_ , Hermione," Ron said, as though repeating a mantra.

"We can do this," she repeated back.

Ron nodded.

"We have to suspend our amazement. He's still our friend."

"I know," Ron said. "But bloody _hell_ , Hermione!"

"I know, I know. Sh!"

"What we saw in there!" He hissed.

"Sh! Ron," she hushed.

"That was _King Arthur. He was like Malfoy_."

" _Sh!_ " she said. "I know."

"I wonder what Merlin looked like," Ron said softly.

"Are you guys coming?" Harry asked, his voice light-hearted, but also filled with undertones of nervousness.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Ron's just being…Ron."

Ron elbowed her. Harry turned back around and they both heaved a sigh of relief.

"Maybe he'll show us, someday," she answered.

"Maybe," Ron said.

* * *

The morning came and Harry was up early, watching the fire from the couch. Hermione saw him as she hurried down the steps.

"Harry," Hermione said, sitting next to him on the couch. "Aren't you coming to breakfast? Everyone's gone."

He glanced at her. "I was just thinking, sorry."

"What were you thinking about?" she asked.

"Malfoy," he said reluctantly.

She swallowed. Before seeing the images she'd been shown the night before, she'd never have believed Malfoy could be Arthur. Now she knew that Arthur had been a bully, a prince who had used his privilege to his advantage, _like_ Draco. Merlin had changed him, somehow.

"Are you worried?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you worried that it'll be harder to change his mind this time around?"

Harry turned sharply.

She raised an eyebrow. "What? They're almost the same person. And since King Arthur was written as one of the greatest kings in history, I had to make an assumption."

He glanced away. "I'm sure it's him, but Draco doesn't know. I'm not sure I should even tell him. I don't even know how to tell him. He'd never believe me."

"Maybe it isn't time yet," she suggested.

"Maybe…" he said. "But I've been thinking about this a lot. What if things are different this time around? What if we aren't meant to be friends?"

Hermione flinched. "I don't know much about destiny, Harry, but I think you need to trust in what you know. If you know he's Arthur, then you have to try. Even if he is the most vile, horrible, cruel…"

Harry laughed. Hermione blushed.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "I should have asked."

She glanced away before meeting his gaze again. "It's still hard for me, knowing…this. I'm trying to adjust. But you can still talk to me."

He nodded. She stood up to leave, but he held her wrist.

"Mione?"

She waited.

"Thanks," he said. "Let's go get breakfast."

* * *

"It's so annoying," Harry complained, before biting into his toast. "I hate him and I don't at the same time."

Ron kept eating, afraid to comment. Hermione looked around. "Harry, people…"

He shook his head. "Oh it's fine. I muted the conversation," he explained. "People around us will hear what they want to hear."

She paused, still unused to the fact her friend now had a wealth of magical knowledge. "Right," she said. "Well, I don't know what to tell you. Talk to him? I mean, not that you'll likely get anything sensible out of him. He is a Malfoy, after all."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Harry groaned. "I wish I knew how to make him remember. He might actually be tolerable."

Ron snorted, finally having something to add to the conversation. "Malfoy, _tolerable_? Wishful thinking."

"Are there any phrases he'd remember from back then?" Hermione asked.

Harry smirked. "Lots. That's not a bad idea, actually."

"How did you know it was him, anyway?" Hermione continued. "Was it just the similarities?"

"No. When two people are linked by destiny they have a connection that can be felt through magic. The connection is still there," he sighed. "It's _always_ there."

"That must be bloody annoying," Ron admitted.

"Ron!"

"Well it's true! Who would _want_ to be connected to Malfoy?"

"Pansy Parkinson seems to," Harry quipped. "In more ways than one."

Ron nearly spat out his drink with laughter. He glanced toward Harry with a relief, finally seeing some of his friend.

"Never realized how much it can _suck_ being Merlin," he said.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me," he agreed. "Well, at least the magic's good."

Ron grinned. "Your magic's bloody amazing."

"You didn't think so a week ago."

"Only because we didn't know what was going on!" Hermione protested.

"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly. "I was kind of rude."

"Kind of might be an understatement."

He sighed.

"You better eat your breakfast before it disappears," Hermione said.

"Point taken," He said. "I guess I'll figure something out."

Harry chanced a last glance at Malfoy and heaved an annoyed sigh before picking up his fork and digging into breakfast.

* * *

Things soon fell into a familiar rhythm. Harry was becoming more comfortable in his own skin and things were getting somewhat easier with Hermione and Ron. Hermione was working hard to understand but to Ron it remained the elephant in the room. Initially Ron had been scared to death of Harry, which was then followed by a few days of laughter and amazement. Now their conversations had turned slightly awkward, with Ron being wary of mentioning it at all. Harry and Hermione weren't sure how to approach him.

Harry had gone to the Room of Requirement to tweak some spells and Hermione was left with Ron. She sighed. "I think I'll go to the library and do some work. You're welcome to join me," she said.

"You've been going to the library every night since we found out about Harry, Hermione," Ron said.

"Yes, _studying_ and doing work," she said.

Ron gave her a look that said he didn't believe that. "Are you _sure_?" he asked.

She frowned and turned on him with fury. "Ronald Weasley have you been spying on me?"

"I haven't."

"Come to think of it, Seamus has been at the library a lot more than usual lately. Do you know anything about that, Ron?"

"I'm sorry, Mione, but I just…"

"Just what? Couldn't ask me what I was doing?"

"But you just proved you wouldn't answer!" he protested.

"Fine, Ron. What _was_ I doing at the library?"

"Reading up on King Arthur."

"Yes, I have been doing that, not that it's been entirely useful. But you could have just asked me or Harry about it instead of getting Seamus to be your personal watchdog."

"I don't see the point," he said dejectedly. "All you talk about is Merlin, Arthur and Harry."

"Because I want to understand," she said. "Don't you?"

"Obviously! What kind of a friend do you think I am? But don't you see, Hermione, that's all we talk about anymore. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of _hearing_ about it," Ron complained. "I just want things to go back to the way they _were_ for a change!"

"Well, they _can't_ , Ron!" Hermione spat.

He shrunk back.

"It's hard for me, too, you know!" she said angrily.

Ron frowned. "Mione…" he trailed off.

"We _wanted_ Harry to tell us about this, remember? And he did. Are you really going to pay him back by isolating him even _more_ than before?"

Ron wasn't sure how to respond to that. When Hermione was this angry there wasn't really much anyone could say or do to calm her down.

She paused, still fuming. "Anyway, I'm still Harry's friend, and I'm going to prove it to him. If you want to pretend nothing happened, then that's up to you," she said angrily, and walked away.

"Bloody hell," Ron said, and allowed his head to fall forward into the cushion.

* * *

Harry had been going out of his way to avoid Draco until he'd sorted out this Arthur thing in his head. Today, it seemed, that wasn't in the cards. He was on his way back to the common room from the library and the Slytherin student's words had sounded from nearby.

"What's the matter, Potter? Did they finally kick you off the Quidditch team for incompetence?"

Harry turned, seeing Crabbe and Goyle at Draco's side.

"You wish!" he spat acidly. "It's not my fault you can't hack it as a seeker, Malfoy."

Draco began to look agitated at that and gritted his teeth in anger, knowing he was bested. "I have better things to do than listen to your ridiculousness. Go slum with Weasley and your mudblood friend."

A set of books dropped from behind Harry and he turned to see Hermione with her wand out, mouth set in a stern line, clearly furious with the prejudiced insult.

Draco responded with his own wand raised.

"Just you _try_ it, Mudblood."

The two looked at each other cautiously, waiting for the other to make the first move. Hermione tensed, and Draco's grasp on his wand tightened. Harry decided to stop the fight before it started. Green irises changed to liquid gold as Harry slowed time to a crawl. With a flick of his wrist, Draco had been disarmed, his wand rolling away on the floor.

"How in Merlin's name did you do that, Potter? I barely saw you move."

"I'd be careful if I were you, Malfoy," Harry retorted. "This was between you and me, but as usual you had to bring Hermione's blood status into it. It'll serve you right if you get hexed back to the dark ages."  
  
He was perfectly ready to let Draco get hit by whatever spell Hermione was conjuring but the suddenly bewildered expression on Draco's face made him pause. He motioned for Hermione to wait. She took a deep breath and nodded, but never let her wand down. Harry began another taunt, this time with a purpose behind it.

"Actually, I've been thinking, and it must really _kill_ you to know that a muggle-born witch is so much better at magic than you are. How _do_ you manage to get up in the morning, knowing that?"

Draco snatched his wand up off the ground angrily and pointed it at Harry. "You watch yourself, Potter."

There was a snort. "Why? What exactly are you going to _do_ , run and get your _father_?"

Draco gritted his teeth. "I don't need him; I could take the mudblood down with one swipe of my wand, and you too," he yelled.

 _There it was_. Harry twitched at the phrase – so familiar to the one from years ago. Was it the time for Draco to remember?

The retort came automatically: "I could take you down with less than that."

Draco flinched at the words but didn't miss a beat. "Come on with it, then!" he challenged. "Come on!"

The words weren't out of his mouth before Harry's eyes lit, causing the long strip of red carpet to slip from under Draco's feet. The blonde haired wizard fell to the ground, wand clattering, while Crabbe and Goyle clambered about in attempts to help.

"Hermione, look," Harry said, motioning to the blonde Slytherin wizard.

Draco sat on the ground, bewildered, his hand resting against the side of his head. He sat there for the better part of a minute, his eyes following something Harry couldn't see.

 _Is he…remembering?_ Harry wondered nervously. He felt numb, anxious, and excited all at once. _Arthur?_

"Oh gods..." Draco suddenly muttered, before motioning for Crabbe and Goyle to get away from him and scrambling to his feet.

He met Harry's gaze and muttered "Not Potter, _anyone_ but Potter."

That's when Harry knew. Malfoy _remembered_.

Harry feigned indifference to the hurtful words and rolled his eyes. "Thanks a bunch, Malfoy."

"Well if you weren't such an idiot, you'd have remembered this earlier, _before_ we hated each other."

Harry shared a knowing glance with Hermione.

"Welcome back, _Arthur,_ " Harry sighed.

"Shove off, _Mer_ lin," Draco said before turning to a confused Crabbe and Goyle and storming down the corridor.

* * *

**Finis. Not! There is a sequel. I will post it soon :)  
**


	7. Preview of the sequel: More Like Two Different Coins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The memories of being Arthur have been affecting Draco's behaviour. The Slytherins have noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just to let you know I have posted the sequel (called 'More Like Two Different Coins'). 
> 
> Below you'll find a snippet from the second chapter.
> 
> Just so you're aware, the sequel begins with Harry reflecting on the events from the previous story, meaning it does in parts read like a summary (with Harry's extra thoughts). This is to give other readers an 'in' if they haven't yet read How Harry Became Merlin. I hope you'll still read Chapter 1 but given I know how much you are all dying to know Draco's reaction, you'll find Chapter 2 is also ready and waiting for your perusal. Enjoy!

It had been a week since Malfoy approached them for an insult, and the other students were beginning to notice. Harry worried. Learning that he had a whole other life in the past was one of the most unnerving experiences Harry had ever been through. He could only imagine how hard Draco was taking it. Harry turned around to glance at said Slytherin, just as two students confronted Draco.

"What happened to you, Draco? You've lost your nerve," Blaise said pointedly.

Draco glared.

"Are you questioning my loyalty to Slytherin?" he spat, "You had better have a good reason for this, Zabini."

"I'm not the only one that's noticed you going easy on Potter and the Gryffindors," Blaise accused. "You haven't even called Granger a mudblood for days now!"

Draco looked visibly cross at this.

"Have they blackmailed you?" Pansy asked, concerned.

"No," Draco said.

"Have they threatened you?" she tried.

"No," Draco nearly hissed with frustration.

"Then what?" Blaise asked angrily.

"It's none of your bloody business, Zabini, so keep your nose where it belongs," Draco exclaimed, before tossing his food down and coolly trotting out of the great hall.


End file.
